


The Luckiest

by babyrubysoho



Series: Melodrama [2]
Category: Nightmare (Band)
Genre: Cheating, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, If I'd Written This Today Hitsu Would Have Gotten Laid, Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, POV Ruka, POV Yomi, Poor Hitsugi, Slut Sakito
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-08 11:53:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6853555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyrubysoho/pseuds/babyrubysoho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A long time ago somebody asked me to write a pointless fluffy sequel to My Melodrama. Who was that? I forget. Anyway, here it is, long on pointless, short on fluff. Enjoy Ruka's continued lameness, Ni~ya's ooc angsting and the criminal under-use of Hitsugi!</p><p>*Note: I am currently transferring 12 years’ worth of my fic from various murky corners of the Net to AO3. So if this looks familiar, that’s probably why. Either that or I’m just appallingly unoriginal…*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

_I don’t get many things right the first time  
In fact I am told that a lot  
Now I know all the wrong turns the stumbles and falls  
Brought me here  
  
And where was I before the day  
That I first saw your lovely face  
Now I see it every day  
And I know  
That I am the luckiest_

  
(Ben Folds, The Luckiest)

 

Ruka lounged lazily in his favourite chair, the one he’d been using so long that the stuffing had adapted to his shape; pretending to read one of the 19th century romances that Sakito kept insisting on lending him, he watched his new lover contentedly. Ni~ya was sitting cross-legged on the floor on the other side of the tiny living room, bass casually resting in his lap, the position so familiar that the guitar seemed almost a natural extension of himself. His pretty face was set in an abstracted frown as he tentatively picked out a bass line, the sound of Hitsugi’s rhythm guitar in his headphones, and so he didn’t notice the drummer’s eyes fixed fondly on him.  
  
Absently turning a page, Ruka observed the dark-haired man; not as helplessly beautiful as Sakito or as cute as Yomi, he was nevertheless becoming the central focus of Ruka’s eyes, not to mention his mind, among other things. His gaze was irretrievably drawn to the pale skin and devilishly black hair and eyes of the bass player.  
  
He pondered his swiftly deepening relationship with Ni~ya, after the near-cataclysmic start of it one month ago, in a cramped and chilly tour bus. From the positive starting point of knowing almost everything there was to know about each other already, he was slowly learning other things about Ni~ya; things learnt in not-frequent-enough nights after lives (often with Hitsugi or Yomi banging cheerfully on the walls, one to complain about the noise and the other to shout helpful comments), and in the bare week since their tour had finished.  
  
Learning what Ni~ya hated, what he loved, what he would tolerate and what he would not. He had almost accidentally discovered that one of the most sensitive parts of Ni~ya’s body was in fact the small area of skin on the inside of his elbow; Ruka could drive him crazy by teasing there with his fingertips or his mouth. He learned that Ni~ya _would not_ tolerate being bossed around; Ruka supposed this was because he had always worn the trousers in his previous relationships, and could foresee interesting conflicts in the future when their too similar natures clashed.  
And that the thing his lover hated the most…..was to have his feet played with. Ruka had laughed out loud the first time this came up, until he was silenced by a firm kick in the midsection by his unamused boyfriend. He didn’t even like them being touched by accident; so different to Yomi, Ruka mused slightly guiltily, who could contentedly spend an hour or two having his nails painted and his pretty little feet worshipped, to the extent that it was practically a fetish.  
  
While he was thus absorbed, Ni~ya had noticed his glazed stare and, removing the headphones from his ears, lovingly laid his bass to one side and wiggled forward across the carpet until he could rest his head on Ruka’s knee.  
  
“Hey dopey”.  
  
Ruka started, then smiled and reached down to twine his fingers in Ni~ya’s gleaming fall of hair, today with a wide streak of purple in it.  
  
“What time is it?”  
  
“Eleven thirty”.  
  
“You’re kidding!”  
  
“Huh-uh. That book you’re reading must be _really_ thrilling”.  
  
Ruka snorted and tossed it to one side (carefully, mind - he wasn’t prepared to face Sakito’s wrath about creased pages again). He pulled the pale man up to sit comfortably in his lap.  
  
“Will you stay here tonight?”  
  
Ni~ya pulled a face.  
“But your bed is so small, and you are such a space hog! I fell out on Saturday night, and did you so much as wake up and apologise?”  
But he grinned wickedly as he said it, loving every second of being so close to the drummer.  
  
“You’re just spoilt, Ni~ya-chan”, Ruka lectured him good-humouredly. “I just don’t have a luxury luxury bedroom like you, and there’s precious little room around here as it is!”  
  
Ni~ya pouted but couldn’t keep up the expression as Ruka’s hands slid around to the small of his back and pulled him in to be kissed. He relaxed his body against the taller man, resting his hands on his chest and savouring his contented warmth. After a little while he pulled away, Ruka making a displeased growl and tugging him back close; Ni~ya relented and let himself be cuddled, tucking his head comfortably under the drummer’s chin.  
  
“Hey Ruka”, he murmured against the warm skin of his neck.  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
Ni~ya toyed idly with the loose strands of Ruka’s hair that were tickling his ear.  
“Why don’t you come live with me?”, he asked quietly. He felt Ruka’s hands abruptly still their slow movement over his back.  
  
“Now why would I want to do that?”  
  
Ni~ya thought it sounded as though he was smiling, and yanked hard at the lock of hair that was twined around his finger, grinning at Ruka’s pained hiss.  
“Well. You _could_ stay here in this mouldy hovel with nothing but your TV for company…or, you could live in a luxurious, spacious apartment with spectacular views and great cooking facilities, and spend your evenings having fantastic sex”.  
  
Ruka snorted, amused.  
“You sound like a real-estate agent”.  
  
Ni~ya raised an eyebrow, face still hidden in the other man’s neck.  
“Don’t know what kind of real-estate agents _you’ve_ been dealing with, then”. He smirked as Ruka pinched him lightly on the shoulder.  
  
“Wellll…” mused the drummer thoughtfully, “there just doesn’t seem to be much of an incentive there, see?”  
  
“Well fuck you then!”  
  
Ruka grinned down at the black hair in his eye-line.  
“Right. My bedroom, five minutes”. His irate lover lifted his head, giving him a sarcastic smile and kicking him in the leg painfully.  
  
“Ni~ya-chan. Don’t get so pissy. You know I’ll move in with you so don’t sulk”.  
  
“I never sulk, that’s your area of expertise”. Ni~ya sniggered inwardly as Ruka frowned, knowing that he was perfectly accurate. He also gave a small, silent sigh of relief; he had been reasonably confident that Ruka would agree to his invitation, but sometimes it was hard to tell what would push the temperamental drummer too far.  
  
“Tomorrow”.  
  
Ruka narrowed his eyes at Ni~ya’s peremptory tone but nodded comfortably, drawing in breath as the pale man began to nibble at his ear playfully, a little too hard for comfort. He took Ni~ya by the shoulders and held him at arm’s length, revelling in the inviting grin plastered over his face.  
  
“Fine. But tonight, you’ll be the one getting bruises, not me”. He put on his best ‘I mean business’ expression, which shattered when Ni~ya began to laugh in his face.  
  
“Ruka…your threats are just…so… _unthreatening_ …!” Ni~ya began to snort with laughter.  
  
“Damn, you really know how to break the mood, huh”. Ruka pushed the smaller man off his lap and stood up, stalking off half-grumpily into the kitchen area, until his sulk was interrupted by a deafening shout:  
  
“GERONIMO!!” Ni~ya yelled cheerfully, performing an impressive rugby tackle and sending them both crashing to the tiled floor. “Never fails”, he commented airily as he pinned his lover down with his body.  
  
“Ni~ya-chan”, came Ruka’s voice, slightly muffled by the floor, “I am bleeding. Again. Didn’t we agree last time that this is just not on?”  
  
“No”, explained Ni~ya, grunting with the effort of rolling the un-co-operative Ruka over onto his back, “ _you_ said that, then I punched you in the stomach”.  
  
“Oh, yes.” Ruka glared up at his happily smiling bassist. “It had quite slipped my mind”.  
  
“Y’know, we’ve never done it in here before”, purred Ni~ya seductively, running his fingers minutely over Ruka’s hips.  
  
“And we’re not going to! Somebody has to cl-ahhhhhh!” Ruka decided it was not worth arguing over as Ni~ya’s hand slipped suddenly into his jeans and he leaned forward, locking their lips together bruisingly.  
“Fine, I guess we are…ahhh…Ni~ya-chan, one day I’m gonna really fuck you u -”  
  
“Shut up”.  


 

* * *

  
  
  
I lie in bed and turn the events of this evening over in my head. Well. I say events, but it wasn’t exactly a noteworthy progression towards my Goal for the Month: to finally get Sakito into bed. Any bed will do. I mean, I know we haven’t officially _gone out_ anywhere, but we must have passed the third date marker a good while back; and I’m not completely controlled by my persistently adolescent mindset, but come on! It’s been more than four weeks and he’s done nothing but kiss me. If this is some smart little plan to pin me to him irrevocably while driving me nuts at the same time, it’s working!  
  
Damn that Ruka! This is all his fault; if he’d had the restraint to keep his hands to himself all that time ago, my sex drive would never have gone into overload like it does these days whenever Saki even glances at me. This evening he came around with food for me (he’s kept his promise in that respect at least) and more of those kisses that just make me melt from his sheer skill; and then just as things were about to get even more interesting he shoved more food at me and made me sit through another interminable black and white movie with a big smug smile on that perfect face; naturally I fell asleep, and when I woke up just now he’d bloody gone! Hmph.  
  
I shoulder deeper under the blankets resignedly and try to sleep again. Impossible, now I’ve started thinking about Saki; I know he’s fantastic, he must be or he wouldn’t have so much money; I also know he’s a slut, for the same reason. _So why won’t he do it with me, goddammit_?!  
Bet Ruka’s not having this problem. He has all the good luck. I bet he’s having ridiculously filthy sex with Ni~ya right this second. I can’t help wondering what Ni~ya’s like…I wonder if he’s better than me? Why am I even thinking about this?! I wonder what Saki’s like compared to Ruka….  
  
Oooh. Hello. What’s this? Ah, damn my uncontrollable body! I close my eyes and bite my lip as a sudden illogical image of Ruka and Saki hits me, both of them doing all the dirty things to me that Saki told me he’d do a month ago and still hasn’t…God, that is just plain wrong, I shouldn’t be imagining things like this! (I think to myself as my hands slide down my body to caress myself under my pyjamas). Smeg. Looks like I’ll be washing these sheets again tomorrow, and for what? I hate them both…  
  


* * *

  
  
  
I shift the cardboard box in my arms, ignoring my complaining back, and try to manipulate the door handle with my elbow. Ni~ya-chan is standing just behind me, watching my struggles with interest over my shoulder.  
  
“Could you be any less helpful?” I grumble, the handle finally catching and sending me flying through the doorway. He slips unconcernedly past me carrying one shoebox and sinks down on the tatami in apparent exhaustion.  
  
“There. Done. After all that complaining it didn’t take too long now, did it?” He smiles sweetly up at me.  
  
I let go of my burden, dropping it with a thud by his feet.  
“It would have taken half the time if you weren’t just standing there telling me what to do!”  
  
He stretches luxuriously and the easy arch of his back draws my eyes even as his words irritate me.  
“I was supervising”. He unwinds his long scarf and brushes a few snowflakes out of his hair. I kick off my shoes and stalk past him, looking for the central heating that Ni~ya-chan is so proud of. It’s difficult. The whole room is _covered_ with stuff, not to mention all the boxes I’ve just spent the whole morning lugging in.  
I hunker down next to his TV (soon to be replaced with my more spectacular one) and rifle through his DVD collection. I raise my eyebrows.  
  
“Damn, Ni~ya-chan, how much porn do you _own_?!”  
I look up to find he has vanished, but he pokes his head around the doorframe from inside the kitchen and favours me with a lecherous wink. I shake my head and resume my search for the elusive heating. I discover it finally as Ni~ya-chan emerges with a cup of tea, picking his way effortlessly through the junk covering the floor and handing it to me.  
  
“This place is a tip”, I tell him severely.  
  
“Well you know what you could do about it”, he says hopefully; “I need a cleaner“. I put the cup down on a precarious window ledge and fold my arms.  
  
“Do I look like your perfect housewife?”  
  
He grins and I furrow my eyebrows.  
  
“Ni~ya-chan, I’m not going to be your bitch”.  
  
He sighs sarcastically.  
“Oh dear. We’d better break up, then”.  
  
We both laugh a little, half knowing that it’s too early for us to make jokes like that. Looking at his pretty, pale, familiar face, I suddenly feel so proud that he’s mine. I manoeuvre through the magazines on the floor to slide my arms lightly over his waist; leaning down I cover his lovely smile with my mouth, a shiver of happiness running through me as he melts against my body, his pale arms wrapping around my neck.  
  
Reluctantly I stop kissing him, letting him remain in the circle of my arms.  
“We are going to clean. Right now. Until everything’s done. Got it?”  
  
“Right now?” He pretends to wilt disappointedly and pouts.  
  
“Don’t even bother”, I tell him, letting him go, “it’s not going to work. You are going to do your fair share”.  
  
He nods submissively.  
  
  
  
Two hours later I finally stop tidying and look over at him. Ni~ya-chan is looking actually rather delectable in lemon yellow rubber gloves and what is presumably one of his ex-girlfriends’ aprons (I’m finding out very fast that Ni~ya-chan is not the type to possess even a duster). So long as I try and ignore the fact that he’s lounging on the sofa and doing less than nothing at all, everything is good.  
  
I gaze around proudly at the neat and sparkling apartment. There. I can’t say I exactly enjoy cleaning, but anything rather than live in that tip.  
  
“Well”, Ni~ya-chan sighs in happy weariness (ahah, ahahaha), poking me in the shin with his foot, “what shall we do now?”  
  
“I think we should de-scale the teapot”.  
  
“Filthy bitch”. He sits up a bit and pulls off the gloves, tossing them on the floor ( I can feel my facial muscles twitch in irritation, and pick the gloves up again pointedly).  
“Well. Shall we go out and have supper or something?”  
  
“How about something first, then supper?”  
I reach down and pull him to his feet and before he can catch his balance I pick him up bodily and sling him over my shoulder, staggering a bit since he’s nearly as tall as me and not nearly so easy to manhandle as Yomi (there’s that guilt again).  
  
“Hey!”  
  
“Zip it”, I order, patting him firmly on the behind with my supporting hand. I walk across the lovely clean floor to his bedroom which does indeed, as promised, have a huge bed. He shifts his weight backwards suddenly and we both go crashing onto it, a pleasurable little struggle ensuing until he pins me by the throat and clambers on top of me while I’m struggling to breathe.  
  
“Who’s your Daddy now?” he asks threateningly, then bursts out laughing, letting his hands loose. I choke slightly with the effort of drawing in breath and laughing at the same time. He settles his slim hips comfortably against my rapidly growing hard-on and leans down to kiss me, letting me tangle my hands in his shining hair and tug him closer against me as the kiss grows deeper. He moans lightly into my mouth as I raise my leg a little to stroke between his thighs, and moves his lips against mine, the sensation making me tingle.  
  
“Fuck me slowly this time” he whispers and the shivers on the back of my neck grow more intense. Why is it that dirty words coming from Yomi sound incongruous, but from Ni~ya-chan’s curved lips they are so perfect?  
  
He smiles at the effect of his words, and I abruptly use my barely greater strength to reverse our positions and rest my weight over his reclining body. The only way to get Ni~ya-chan to behave the way I want is to get the jump on him when he’s not expecting it, I’ve discovered. So I link my fingers with his and kiss him harshly, as I’m in no mood to be bitten or pinched or have my hair pulled after the exertions of the morning. Releasing his mouth finally I take a look at him; his pale face holds a sweet, rebellious smile which makes me narrow my eyes in exasperation. No matter what I do, Ni~ya-chan won’t even pretend to be the polite, submissive type of partner I generally lean towards.  
  
“You know I love you, right?” I whisper, the words he spent so long waiting to hear from me and which always get a reaction. His mesmerising eyes soften a little and he untangles his hand from mine to stroke my cheek fondly. I bring my lips to his skin again, running a trail of kisses along his jaw and down his throat, delighting in the unique taste and texture of his body.  
I’m quite engaged in touching him, immersed in the feelings he creates in me and assuming he’s feeling the same, when he pipes up casually with  
  
“D’you think we should make spaghetti or get pizza?”  
  
I let my head fall disbelievingly against his chest.  
  
“Oh, damn you, Ni~ya. Just…goddammit”.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
I come into the recording studio early on Tuesday, hoping to catch Saki before everyone else gets here to sort out some preliminary work for a couple of new songs. Sure enough he’s already there by the mixing desk, drinking tea and reading tablature, his face pale and cross with sleep. As I mooch in, however, he smiles at me softly and even though it’s the same smile he’s been giving me for years, it makes me go a little fluttery inside. I grin back idiotically and trot over to him as he beckons to me, leaning down to meet his kiss, the earthy tang of tea on his lips. I slide my arms around his neck in a friendly hug and sit myself down on the arm of his chair. His guitar tech comes yawning through the room and Saki favours him with a beam of welcome that’s familiar and easy but so sexy that I wonder how Keisuke doesn’t just melt into the floor under it. Keisuke just gives us a sleepy wave and disappears through the opposite door. I surmise that Saki can turn his charm on and off like electricity, and that he just decided to turn the full force of it on me when he kissed me on the roof all that time ago.  
  
“Would you like to come over tonight?” he asks, his slim hand resting casually on my hip. He must know how fucking dirty his expression is right now, his beguilingly innocent-looking mouth curved upwards confidently. I feel like grabbing his rich cinnamon hair in both hands and screaming ‘ _fuck me you beautiful bastard!!_ ’, but admirably manage to restrain myself. His slanting eyes have a wicked gleam in them - he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. Why?!  
  
“Of course I’ll come over”, I say glumly, barely daring to hope that tonight will be the night. He nods in satisfaction and kisses me forcefully and quickly, squeezing me to him with his surprisingly strong arms, which sets my heart hammering and something unfortunate to almost occur in my pants.  
  
It’s at this point that Hitsugi-kun appears in the doorway.  
  
“Morning!” calls Saki cheerfully, his arms still locked around my waist. Hitsugi-kun, apparently oblivious to Saki’s giga-watt charm, just rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath about might as well be a porn set and not needing to see this sort of thing before breakfast. Then he stalks through into the recording room to consult with the techs about his guitar parts for the day.  
  
I spend the rest of the morning sitting on the mixing room sofa and trying to prevent myself from screaming my frustrations out loud for all the world (well, maybe six people) to hear, or from trying to hump Saki’s leg like the drooling, horny little puppy I feel like right now. Sakito has, for about two hours and for reasons best known to himself, been acting so obviously and blatantly seductive with his words and actions that even Ni~ya and Ruka are beginning to be affected and are currently gawping dopily with open mouths at his very annoyingly perfect ass as he hangs over the back of a chair to look at Hitsugi-kun in the other room. I’m not sure whether to be annoyed or aroused so I just squirm in my seat uncomfortably and try to concentrate on evaluating Hitsugi-kun’s rhythm takes.  
  
Ni~ya, who has the misfortune to be sitting next to me, gives up trying to be patient after a while and elbows me in the ribs.  
“Will you stop fidgeting Yomi? We’re concentrating here”.  
  
“I can tell”, I say sarcastically, looking pointedly at Ruka who has his mouth hanging open in the vaguely retarded way he does when he’s drumming, still staring at my Saki’s perfect figure.  
  
Ni~ya just grins comfortably. I’m glad at every instance that he treats me like he used to before everything started way back when, because I’m not sure how completely he trusts me, or for that matter, how much he trusts Ruka. Which is ridiculous, even though…ah damn, I’m getting another of those stupid irrational flashes of Ruka and Saki doing scandalous and possibly illegal things to me, which happens whenever I try to avoid thinking about it. I feel myself blush, and turn my eyes back to Saki.  
  
Ni~ya nudges his lover hard in the side.  
“Hey, pass the cigarettes”. Ruka does so with tolerably good grace.  
“I’m hungry”, Ni~ya complains. “Why don’t you go and buy us all lunch?”  
  
“Why don’t you go f -”  
  
“I’ll go”, I interpose. I stand up, stretching and bundling myself up in earmuffs, scarf and gloves.  
“You coming, Saki?”  
He starts to nod when Hitsugi-kun opens the joining door and drags him through into the other room, complaining about some guitar part that’s clashing with one of his.  
  
“Never mind”.  
  
  
I trudge down the road, quite grateful for the fresh air. Studio sofas are addictive, they suck you in and you can get trapped there all day vegetating into a vaguely person-shaped blob by the end of the session.  
  
I kick at the snow lining the pavement absently. I feel so jealous sometimes of Ruka and Ni~ya’s relationship, just when I’m watching them day to day. They don’t even act like lovers particularly when we’re working, but you can tell how deep it goes all the same. They bicker constantly about anything and everything because Ni~ya is bossy or at least pretends to be, and Ruka has his short temper; but Ni~ya can control Ruka so much better than I ever could; when Ni~ya gets bored with arguing he just ignores Ruka until he subsides into silent sulks, which Ni~ya can defuse with a touch of his hand or by resting himself against Ruka’s side.  
  
I sometimes wonder that if I could have understood and dealt with Ruka as well as Ni~ya does, maybe the two of us could have…no. Things are definitely perfect as they are. Well…almost perfect, if I can ever complete my mission.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
That evening Hitsugi watched four Nightmare On Elm Street films with his guitar techs (vowing to himself that he would one day cover the godly theme tune from number 3), Ruka and Ni~ya continued arguing and having make-up sex, and Sakito supervised his miniscule lover in the making of _nabe_.  
  
“Honestly Yomi, it can’t be much simpler than it is”, sighed Sakito, covering his eyes with one hand despairingly. “You just shove everything in one pot and bung it on the stove”.  
  
“Why am I the one who has to do it, then?” Yomi complained, surrounded by vegetable debris and sucking indignantly on his cut index finger. “You know I’m not very domestic”.  
  
Sakito pushed his choppy hair out of his face, resigned to his wifely role for ever more, and smiled sweetly at the frustrated little man.  
“Ok, never mind. Can you go and get some more kerosene for the heater?”  
  
“Aww, but -”  
  
“Please?” Sakito cooed, turning the full force of his tilted eyes on Yomi, and smiling to see him trot obediently out the door into the snow. He sighed again, this time in contentment; it was so nice to spend time doing boring, humdrum things with his immature boyfriend, with no tension and no pressure on him to perform or dress up. He was enjoying his first proper adult relationship, and was sure that he had made the right decision.  
  
Later, after eating, he held Yomi peacefully in his arms on the rug, hands lightly stroking his back and narrow shoulders. He leaned down and kissed the smaller man, loving the way he could make Yomi shiver beneath his caress, becoming breathless and excited as the kiss grew deeper.  
  
“Saki…”  
  
“Mm?” Sakito made a small questioning noise as Yomi spoke against his lips.  
  
“I…I mean, we…”  
  
Sakito sat up a bit, pulling back slightly and looking at him patiently, seriously.  
“What’s the matter?”  
  
Yomi gazed at him for a minute, clearly wanting to say something, then shrugged his shoulders.  
“…Nothing”.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
I lie in bed, half asleep like I have been any one of these nights, curled in Saki’s arms. I was on the brink of asking him this evening, out and out, whether there’s something wrong with me, why he won’t go any further with me. But when I looked up into those beautiful eyes, his lovely face looked so innocent (although with Saki you can never tell, he probably looks like an angel when he’s right in the middle of sex…not that I’d know…) that I just couldn’t do it.  
  
So here I am again, frustrated and angry at myself for being so. I shift dozily in his embrace so that my back is pressed against his stomach. Every time I try and let myself drift into sleep lately I’m haunted by these fucking perverted visions and I have to pinch myself to wake myself up. I’m sure Saki wouldn’t mind, not considering _his_ history, but I feel senselessly guilty anyway…  
  
And now I’m trying so hard not to think about it, images flood my badly-controlled brain, moving pictures of the three of us together, the imagined sensations so intense that I can feel my body heat and my cheeks flood with scarlet; Saki as the sweet and Ruka the bitter, the combination overwhelmingly erotic, leaving me helpless as these images batter me in fragments: a touch, a feathery kiss, a sharp bite that breaks the skin.  
  
“Hell with this!”  
I’m wide awake and turned on now. I sit up with difficulty, pushing my hair back from my sweaty face.  
  
“Are you ok, Yomi?” asks Saki concernedly, sleepily, rubbing his eyes blearily. Instinctively I grab him by the shoulders, lean down and kiss him as hard as I can, trying to get some relief from these feelings washing through me. I let him go.  
  
“Wha -”  
  
“It’s all right, Saki, go back to sleep”, I mumble, swinging my legs out of the bed and padding stiffly to the bathroom. I can sense him watching me. I sincerely hope he’s unaware of all this.  
I lean against the towel rail and let these twisted daydreams overwhelm me, swiftly and relievingly getting myself off to the actions of my imaginary Saki and Ruka. That’s better, for now. Now please, God, can I get some damn _sleep_?  
  
As I re-enter the bedroom and clamber under the covers once more, feeling relaxed at last, I see Saki still gazing at me in the semi-darkness, his eyes like deep pools of ink. Does he look a bit knowing? I never know how Saki finds things out, but he almost always does.  
  
“Yomi”, he whispers.  
  
I gulp. “Er…yes?”  
  
“Hold me”, he asks, almost guiltily, shyly. I nod eagerly and lie down, snuggling my face against his slim chest and resting my hand on his flat stomach. He wraps me in his arms, and I know I love him. I just want to be with him so much…  
  
I fall asleep, and mercifully the only dream I have is of Ni~ya and Hitsugi-kun prancing through a film set with unrealistic-looking claws and hockey masks (which, while disturbing in itself, is better than before, although I do wish Hitsugi-kun would quit explaining his new-found horror obsession in mind-numbing detail every lunch break).  
Hurrah. Peace.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys go on their end-of-year hot-spring work outing. Misunderstandings about cheating ensue, and the inevitable angst begins.

“Yes! Party!”  
  
Sakito sticks his fists in the air, looking triumphant. I glance up from where I’m sitting playing Ni~ya-chan’s bass nostalgically.  
“Say what?”  
  
He turns round from his perusal of his emails on someone else’s laptop.  
“They sent through the date for our bon-enkai finally. Next Friday till Saturday, all bought and paid for”.  
  
“Yeeess!” Yomi and Hitsugi perk up considerably at the thought of free alcohol.  
“Where is it?” Yomi asks. Sakito mentions the name of a very posh hotel in the Kamiyamada Onsen area.  
  
“Oooh, swanky!”  
  
“Swanky indeed. So behave yourselves and keep the noise down, what am I saying?”  
  
“Saki, it’s a hot spring in December. A few more drunk guys running riot won’t make any difference”. Yomi looks rather hopefully towards Saki, and I wonder more than idly how their relationship’s going. Yomi seems besotted and frustrated at the same time, while Saki is blissfully happy and even more beautiful these days (if that were possible), and less of a slave-driver than is his wont usually.  
  
I shake myself out of my musings to join in the conversation, and out of the corner of my eye I catch Ni~ya-chan watching me thoughtfully. I raise my eyebrows at him and he shrugs imperceptibly, the side of his mouth hitching upwards a little. Turning my attention back to the guys I see Yomi looking a little flushed, probably at the thought of hot-tubbing with Saki, and Hitsugi with a resigned expression on his face at no doubt having to witness it.  
  
“Well, let’s take a break to celebrate”, decides Saki, standing up gracefully. “Someone put the kettle on, me and Ni~ya are going for cigarettes”. They both wrap themselves up against the cold, still managing to look slim and lovely, and head out the door. I resume my aimless fiddling with the bass half-heartedly, returning once more to thoughts of just what’s going on with Yomi and Saki. Hitsugi drags himself up from the studio sofa and obediently starts making tea. Absently staring at Yomi without really being aware of it, I see the pink blush spread further across his face. Wonder what he’s thinking about?  


 

* * *

  
  
  
I’m pretty happy at the thought of this party; it’s been a long time since we’ve all been out together, especially to such a nice place. I love onsens anyway, and hopefully the exotic location will inspire Saki with some of the excitement I’ve been waiting for. And if not, at least I can get blind drunk and forget about it for a while.  
  
As I raise my eyes to meet Saki’s I feel rather than see Ruka staring at me fixedly. What’s that all about? I feel my treacherous face flush under his gaze, remembering past occurrences along with the recent shameful fantasies I’ve been having. What is wrong with me?! He’ll notice if I don’t stop it! As I fight myself, Saki and Ni~ya leave the studio, for why I didn’t hear, and Hitsugi-kun grumps off to make tea - he’ll do everything Saki asks, even though he moans about it continually. I think it’s kind of cute.  
  
Is he still looking at me?! Maybe he’s not really at all, Ruka sometimes needs a lot of concentration to think, he’s probably staring at nothing… I bite my lip all the same, and urge my brain to stop it as I recall what went on between the two of us, how ardently he told me he loved me…even though I can see plainly how much he’s crazy for Ni~ya. Must just be all this physical frustration getting to me.  
  
Aargh! This is so not cool. I shake my head briskly.  
“Hitsugi-kun!”  
  
He pokes his head round the door, and his eyes narrow imperceptibly looking at the two of us. Maybe Hitsugi-kun is more astute than I thought?  
“What?”  
  
“Er…have you got any biscuits?”  
  
“Sure. Wait two seconds and I’ll come and tell you both about the movies I watched last night”.  
  
I groan inwardly as he plonks himself down next to Ruka, shoving tea at him and beginning to talk. And when he’s not busy being shy, Hitsugi-kun can talk…and talk…and talk. I notice Ruka’s honey-coloured eyes glazing over just before my own mind slides into oblivion. At least it keeps me from thinking unfortunate things.  
  
I resurface as Ni~ya and Saki return, blowing cold air and snowflakes in with them, just in time to see Ruka shake his head blearily and beckon Ni~ya over to sit beside him. Ni~ya does so, removing one glove and pressing his hand to the side of Ruka’s neck.  
  
“Aaah! That’s cold you little fucker!” Ruka grabs Ni~ya’s hand away and holds it between his own in a very sweet gesture. Ni~ya smiles complacently and proceeds to scoff the plateful of Hitsugi-kun’s carefully arranged biscuits as Ruka rummages in Ni~ya’s grocery bag for his own cigarettes.  
  
“Ni~ya-chan, what is this?” he asks, pulling a magazine out and waving it in front of Ni~ya’s face.  
  
Ni~ya shrugs. “Penthouse”. Seeing Ruka’s expression he grins in amusement. “Well I wasn’t about to give up my subscription just because I have you”.  
  
Ruka sighs in mock exasperation (slyly hiding the magazine in his coat pocket).  
“Whatever, do as you please, Ni~ya-chan”.  
  
“I always do”.  
  
Saki, during this interchange, has sat down close beside me and is observing them with his beautiful mouth twitched upwards.  
“You are _so whipped_ ”, he tells Ruka, barely containing his laughter. Aren’t we all, I think to myself.  
  
Ruka inclines his head to this, but doesn’t say yes or no, looking mischievous.  
“But wait till I get him home”.  
  
“What happens then?”  
  
“Erm…Well, I guess I’ll clean the house, then I’ll make dinner…”  
  
“Dude!”  
  
“That’s only because _he_ ”, Ruka jabs a thumb in Ni~ya’s direction, “can’t _do_ any of those things. He does other important things”.  
  
“Whatever you say, Ruka”, Hitsugi-kun sniggers, and Ruka frowns. But when he looks over at Ni~ya his expression clears and his face seems lit up from the inside, with none of the troubled look he wears when he’s got his eyes on me. I’m glad for him, but…but I wish he’d look at me that way. Once. Am I bad? Yeah. Yeah, I am.  
  
I take Saki’s hand, winding my small fingers around his creamy skin. He smiles down at me happily. I wish I could tell him everything. He’s the only one who can help me.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
This hotel is seriously beautiful. I’ve been feeling nervous just walking down the corridor in case I break something and have to pay for it; thankfully, now dinner is over and everyone is wasted, so it doesn’t matter any more! We wave goodbye to the tech crew, who are going out to karaoke, and wander down the hall towards one of the indoor baths. It’s pretty late by now so there aren’t so many people about for me to show my drunken self up in front of. I weave a bit to the side, treading on Hitsugi-kun’s foot and interrupting his monologue about god knows what…I wasn’t really listening.  
  
“Ow! Watch it Yomi”, slurs Hitsugi-kun, pushing me gently back over into my own path. I flick my towel at him playfully and he shakes his head. “You’re such an embarrassment”.  
  
Up ahead one of the sliding doors open from the most expensive rooms and a tall guy comes out, taller than Ruka. He glances at us casually, then does a double-take.  
  
“Sakito-kun!”  
  
Saki, walking a little way ahead of me, starts at his voice, then smiles a surprised and pleased smile, fixing his sloe eyes on the guy in his most charming way.  
  
“This is a pleasant surprise, Sakito-kun”.  
  
“Yeah, I didn’t expect to see you here, Kobayashi-san”. Saki looks genuinely welcoming, and I feel curious as to who this guy is. Glancing up I see Hitsugi-kun looking at me a bit apprehensively. Ruka and Ni~ya are miles behind as Ni~ya is far too drunk to walk in a straight line and Ruka is ‘helping’ him . As we politely push our way through an idling group of businessmen I lose sight of Saki momentarily. When he comes into view again I stop moving for a second: Saki has his lovely face tilted upwards so this Kobayashi guy can kiss him lightly on the cheek. Hey! I bristle. What is some random man doing kissing my Sakito?!  
  
I’m about to push in rudely and ask for an introduction, but Hitsugi-kun grabs the sleeve of my yukata and keeps me walking behind them. I poke him in the side but he ignores me. When my ears catch up to the conversation they are talking animatedly, Saki having to look up to meet this tall guy’s eyes.  
  
“So”, says Kobayashi conversationally, “I hear you’re out of the game these days, Sakito-kun”. Saki smiles apologetically.  
  
“Yeah, I am, and I’m happier for it”.  
  
“Well, that’s too bad. So long as you’re being looked after, I guess I’m glad for you”.  
  
Saki looks up at him sweetly; their glances seem so familiar.  
“Thank you. It’s no offence to you, you know?”  
  
The Kobayashi guy laughs. He has a strong voice, confident.  
“I’m sure I’ll live. Are you going to the onsen now?” When Saki nods his head yes, he says “Well, I guess I’ll come and talk to you in a little while, then”.  
  
“Please do”.  
  
Kobayashi gives him a brisk pat on the shoulder, then turns and walks back the way we came, giving us a friendly if condescending smile as he passes us. I vaguely hear Ni~ya’s voice behind me going “whoops! Sorry, sorry!”, but I’m too lost in thought to do anything except follow Saki to the changing rooms.  
  
It’s so obvious. How dumb am I? That must be one of Saki’s…ex-clientele, how can I put it more politely? The familiarity, his wealthy-looking appearance. He was good-looking. Handsome. I reflect on the way Saki’s face tilted up to neatly meet his, the elegant picture the two of them made together. Drunk me is apt to irrational thoughts: if this is the kind of guy Saki is used to being with…tall, handsome, charming, rich…then no wonder he doesn’t want to sleep with me. Am I stupid or what? I _feel_ pretty stupid.  
  
Inside the changing room I undress in silence on the tatami mats. Nobody notices because of all the noise coming from Ni~ya and Ruka as they tease Hitsugi-kun, and from his good-natured retorts. They disappear through into the bath. I rest my forehead on the cool clothing shelf, trying to stop my head spinning. I think I drank too much, and thinking and drinking don’t mix with me.  
  
“Yomi”. I hear his solicitous, if tipsy, voice in my ear. “Are you feeling ok?”  
  
I nod weakly, raising my head to look up at him. He looks so innocent, so beautiful and confident, just standing there completely naked.  
“Saki, who was that Kobayashi guy?”  
  
“Oh, him”. Saki smiles reassuringly. “He’s the CEO for…erm…well, I forget what corporation, but something to do with sound systems”.  
  
“What’s he like?”  
  
Saki looks puzzled. “Like? Well. He’s charming. He’s pretty funny. He’s a good man, Yomi”.  
  
“Oh”. Well that’s just great, isn’t it.  
  
“Cheer up Yomi”, he says softly, kissing me gently on the mouth. “Come on”. I follow him through the door into the bath room. I want to cry.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
I relax back into the welcoming water, wincing a little at the heat. Hitsugi sits composedly as far away from Ni~ya-chan’s tickling hands as possible; Ni~ya-chan is so drunk I’m afraid he might pass out right here in the bath, so I sit protectively next to him ready to prop him up if he starts sliding under. Sakito and Yomi come in just after us; Yomi turns his back to us, washes up and then splashes in next to Hitsugi, making little ‘ow ow’ noises at the hot water; Sakito is languidly washing his hair, sitting on one of the low wooden stools, taking his time and generally making a display of himself, to the obvious approval of the other few salarymen who are occupying the bath.  
  
Yomi watches him for a minute then sighs and closes his eyes. He’s so short that only his head is visible above water, looking like a little tomato with hair. Ni~ya-chan grins at him vapidly, then decides it would be great fun to have a water fight. The salarymen look rather perturbed at the giggling and splashing of complete strangers that follows, but cheer up when Sakito slides into the bath next to Yomi and gives them a polite smile.  
  
“Ni~ya”, he chides cheerfully, “give it a rest”. Ni~ya-chan finally obeys the voice of authority and sits fidgeting next to me.  
  
“What can we do now?” he whines. Hitsugi gives him a withering look.  
  
“What do you want to do, Mr Maturity?”  
  
Ni~ya-chan leans across the bath and whispers into his ear at length.  
  
“Ugh, you freaking pervert! Get away from me!!” Hitsugi turns as red as Yomi and proceeds to try and drown Ni~ya-chan. I decide not to intervene and watch the entertaining spectacle. The other occupants move a little further away and shake their heads among themselves. I turn my attention to Yomi; he’s not acting himself right now and I can’t help but worry about him, but I can’t exactly ask him; I forfeited any right to Yomi’s thoughts some time ago and it’s not really my business except…I dunno. He doesn’t look at me or acknowledge me, so I give up when Ni~ya-chan grabs my arm and nuzzles his face against my neck.  
  
In the interim of trying to stop him making a spectacle of himself someone else has sat down in the bath, and I recognise him as the guy we passed in the hall just now and Ni~ya-chan nearly ran into. He’s chatting casually with Saki who’s leaning in to hear him over all the talking and echoing, looking as inviting and desirable as he always has around rich guys until recently. I guess it’s just force of habit, Saki’s such a flirt, he can’t help himself. Maybe that’s why Yomi’s looking so miserable? I try and tune out Ni~ya-chan’s rambling to listen to their conversation.  
  
“Kobayashi-san, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Yomi”. Saki leans back and Yomi starts out of his sulk.  
  
“Er, hello”.  
  
Sakito’s friend takes a look at Yomi quizzically. His expression is pretty amusing, a mixture of puzzlement and surprise. He blinks and smiles.  
  
“Pleasure to meet you, Yomi-san”. He puts his hand out and Yomi grudgingly shakes it, his little fingers enveloped in the much larger ones of this Kobayashi. He must be even taller than me, and a lot less skinny. I’ve gotta say, this is much more the kind of guy I imagined Saki going for before he fell for Yomi. Maybe that’s what Kobayashi’s thinking too; knowing Sakito’s type it must be kind of funny to see him with my little midget. Er. I mean Saki’s little midget. What did I just think?  
  
I shrug and turn around as Ni~ya-chan yanks on my hair demandingly.  
“Stop staring, it’s rude”.  
  
“You’re drunk, Ni~ya-chan. Go to bed, please, I don’t wanna be carrying you up there”.  
  
He nips on my neck painfully.  
“Ok. Bring me chocolate. I’ll be waiting”.  
  
“Where am I gonna get chocolate at this time of night?”  
  
He stands up, his body faintly pink from the heat of the bath. He wobbles a little.  
“Don’t know, don’t care”. He pats me on the head, then steps out of the bath ungracefully and weaves his way to the changing room. Bossy little monster.  
  
When I turn back round Hitsugi has joined in Saki’s conversation and has proposed going down to the karaoke room.  
  
“Yeah, karaoke!” Saki sticks his slender arms in the air, then remembers his manners.  
“Would you like to come sing, Kobayashi-san?”  
  
Kobayashi smiles at him fondly.  
“Why not?”  
  
“Come on Yomi”. Saki and his little group stand up, and he tugs gently on Yomi’s arm. Yomi looks up at him, a little wavering smile on his face.  
  
“That’s ok Saki, I wanna just relax in the outside tub for now. Do you mind?”  
  
Saki looks down a little worriedly.  
“Of course I don’t mind, if you think you’ll be ok. _Are_ you ok?”  
  
“Sure, Saki. Go have fun”.  
  
“All right. Don’t stay in the bath too long, ok?”  
  
Yomi nods and stands up, making his way with his washcloth and bowl to the little outside garden with its tiny hot-spring.  
  
“Coming, Ruka?”  
  
“Yeah, I’ll come for a couple of songs”. Hopefully by then Ni~ya-chan will be asleep and not pestering me with unreasonable demands for foodstuffs.  
“I’m gonna kick Hitsugi’s ass”.  
  
Hitsugi snorts.  
“Whatever. Who do you think you’re kidding, you sing like my grandma”.  
  
We make our way out of the bath room. I catch Sakito looking back in concern after Yomi a couple of times, and wonder once again what’s happening with them. I know Saki can look after himself, but Yomi…I’m not sure.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Sitting outside I try not to think. Of anything. It’s so pretty out here with the little trees and soft light, the snow’s slackened off and is falling gently into the small pool; it’s not as hot as inside, just comfortably warm. I like the way my breath steams in the air while my whole body is so heated. But hot springs are really not at the top of my list of priorities right now.  
  
I can’t help it. I can’t stop my mind from playing over every second of conversation between Saki and that man. I was kind of rude to him, but seeing Saki - supposedly _my_ Saki - leaning in towards him confidentially, seeing Kobayashi’s lips brush his ear, listening to Saki’s naturally flirtatious conversation, didn’t exactly inspire me with good will towards him. It would be bad enough normally, but both naked? It couldn’t be much worse. I suddenly recall Saki drunkenly lecturing me, back in the time when I’d just stopped seeing Ruka, telling me that I didn’t belong to anyone and that I could do whatever I liked. Is that really what Saki lives his life by? If so, I’m really screwed…metaphorically.  
  
“Shit…” I try and stop myself but I can’t help my eyes welling up. It’s the drink. Definitely the drink that’s making the tears spill over. Funny. I thought my crying days were finished. Apparently not. Strangely enough, the only person I can remember taking any notice of how upset I seem is Ruka, front runner for most insensitive male 2004. Not that he’s said anything to me; he just watches me whenever he thinks other people aren’t looking.  
  
Well. I guess Saki has every right to see who he wants to; it was him who made a sacrifice by becoming my lover…Stop crying! This is so pathetic.  
I lay my head down on the warm stone at the edge of the pool and sigh shakily. I’ll just stay here a little while longer, then go to bed. If I’m asleep I’ll never know whether Saki comes in tonight or not…  
  
  
  
“Mmph”.  
  
“Wake up”.  
  
I wake up gradually at the insistent shaking of my shoulder. Where am I? I fell asleep? My eyes feel heavy, sticky. I flutter them open with an effort and try to focus.  
  
Ruka is sitting in the pool in front of me, looking exasperated and pitying at the same time.  
“Finally!”  
  
I slide my eyes closed again.  
  
“Yomi, wake up. Don’t fall asleep out here, you’ll catch cold”.  
  
I blink at him blearily.  
“What’s the time?”  
  
“About 2a.m. Don’t you think you should be in bed now?”  
  
That late? Where did all that time go?  
“Where’s everybody?”  
  
“I sent Ni~ya-chan to bed for being a brat. The others have gone to some bar, Hitsugi challenged that Kobayashi guy to a drinking contest, he’s gonna get whipped”.  
  
“Saki too?”  
  
“Yeah. I offered to come and see that you were ok”. He looks quite sympathetic. “Come on Yomi, time to get to sleep, hmm?” He sounds so different from usual, almost caring. Don’t start crying Yomi for god’s sake.  
  
“Ruka”, says my mouth without my brain having any function in the process, “why do you watch me?”  
  
“Huh?” He raises an eyebrow.  
  
“These days…always, always you watch me”. Shit, am I still drunk?  
  
“I worry about you, that’s all”, he tells me in a mother-hen type voice, regarding me seriously. “You don’t seem yourself”. He reaches out to tuck an annoying piece of hair behind my ear.  
“Come on you”, he orders matter-of-factly, “time to get out”. He starts to pull his hand back.  
  
Without really registering what I’m doing I reach up and grab his wrist.  
“Don’t…”  
  
He freezes. What am I doing? I feel hot, almost giddy as I lift my free hand to cup his cheek. He leans forward as if by reflex, then stops dead.  
“Yomi…” he whispers, almost warningly, trying to tug his wrist back slightly.  
  
I gulp, my mind a blank, an absolute blank except for the image of his eyes on me, watching me, continually. The breath is hitching in my throat.  
  
“Please”, I begin, unsure if I even said it aloud, and then I’m cut off as his mouth covers mine gently, his lips trembling against my skin. I hear myself stifle a tiny moan into the kiss before he pulls me forward by the shoulders to bring our bodies together, his hands shaking against me. I gently slide my arms around his back, my fingers running across his shoulder blades, and something in the back of my mind is yelling at me to get away but it’s so faint and his lips on mine and the heat of his skin are drowning it out with every second.  
He stops the kiss and I whimper but he pulls me closer to him possessively and buries his face in my neck, breathing hot against my skin.  
  
“ _I still want you_ ”, he whispers; he sounds like he’s about to cry but he doesn’t stop and I bite down lightly in his shoulder as his arms envelop me completely, protecting me and wanting me and desiring me even though I can feel his heart warring within him. These caresses are so guilty and I kiss him again because if I don’t one of us will try and speak and it will hurt so much.  
  
He whispers my name over and over, kissing my throat, my face, my mouth. Then he squeezes me in a tight hug and releases me to hold me at arms length, gasping for breath, gazing down into my eyes and looking so torn I want to cry for him. His face is flushed, his slim chest heaving.  
  
“Yomi. Go.” I stare at him.  
  
“Please…go, now, quickly”.  
  
“I -”  
  
“ _Please_!”  
  
He bites his full underlip and looks away from me, and I jump up as fast as I can in my dazed state and get out of there, leaving him sitting in the pool, staring at his hands.  
  
As I quickly drag my yukata on, my head is suddenly filled with what I’ve just done. I…can’t even say anything. There are no words for what I have just done to Saki, to Ni~ya, to everybody. My knees start shaking and I make my way back to the bedroom clinging to the wall for most of the way.  
  
He’s not here. Thank god. How can I tell him? What can I say to him? I crawl into bed and burst into tears of guilt and frustration at myself. And I cry and I cry, waiting for him to come back.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
I wait at the doorway to our room. I’ve been waiting here for at least 15 minutes. I can’t go in. I just can’t. I reach up to touch my face. I should be crying, but I can’t. I don’t even deserve the cathartic release of tears. What just happened?  
  
It’s not a secret to me that I still care about Yomi, it’s not a secret that Ni~ya-chan cares about him either, but I was so sure he couldn’t influence me that way any more! And then as soon as I get close to him, as soon as he looks so helpless in front of me I can’t control myself…Yomi brings out the absolute worst in me because he is so weak, so easy for me to trample over, so easy for me to adore…  
  
I close my eyes, feeling a spell of dizziness wash over me. I have to go in, I have to, I deserve all of this guilt, every single bit of it. I bite my lip and try to stop the shaking in my hands.  
  
I slide open the door. I look in. Ni~ya, the person I love, not just the one I pity or the one I desire, the person I _love_ , is lying curled in the middle of the bed, his dark wave of hair spilling across the white sheets; it shines in the pale light that fades through the shoji screens. I take a step into the room. He shifts sleepily, clutching gently at the pillow.  
  
I take a long, shuddering breath and walk softly across the carpet. Steeling myself I slide into the bed beside him, his sleeping back to me, the dark yukata whitening his skin to ash. Looking at him the guilt overwhelms me and I throw my arms around him, pulling him tightly against me and hiding my burning face in his cool hair. I can’t say anything. I just never want to let him go.  
  
“Ruka?” His voice is tiny, uncertain. I must be scaring him, acting so strangely. I tighten my hold on his waist.  
  
“Ni~ya-chan…”  
  
Abruptly he turns in my embrace and flings his arms around me, holding me every bit as tightly as I am him; he burrows closer to me and buries his face in my neck. I’m trying to think of something else to say when I feel his body shaking against me, and a warm wetness trickling along my neck. He’s crying. What…?  
  
“Ni~ya-chan -”  
  
He interrupts me, trying to say something, but I can’t understand because he starts to sob audibly, quietly.  
“I…I’m sorry”, he manages, clutching me tighter, not letting me pull back enough to look at him.  
  
“What?!”  
  
He begins to speak, he’s practically babbling from alcohol and tears. This is the second time he’s cried in front of me. And it’s been my fault both times.  
“I’m sorry I made you do it, I’m sorry I’ve been so mean and rude to you, I know he suits you better than me, I know I’m too bossy and he’s so sweet to you, I understand how you feel about him, I just, _I love you_ …Ruka…”  
  
“H - how did you -”  
  
“I know you, Ruka…I…I’ve watched you ever since I met you, that’s how. I know you. But I don’t know…how you feel about me”.  
  
He breaks off and resumes crying bitterly, and finally I feel tears falling down my own face. How could he possibly know that? Does he really know me that well, as well as I know myself? Does he love me that much?  
  
“I love you”, I whisper, hoping he’s taking it in, “you are the only one I love. Nobody else”.  
  
He sniffs.  
“Really?”  
  
“Please believe me, Ni~ya-chan. I love you”.  
  
“I’ll be so good to you from now on, Ruka, I’ll stop being rude and disobedient, you can do whatever you like with me just please don’t leave me!”  
  
“Sshh”. I pull myself away from him enough to see his white face, eyes puffy from crying. “I will never leave you, never ever, ok?” I gently stroke his hair, trying to smile at him even though I’m practically brimming over with guilt.  
  
I continue to caress him till he falls into an uneasy sleep, hands still gripping my yukata. And I lie there all night wondering how I can ever make this right for him.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
I drift up from sleep, seeing the morning light through my eyelids. I keep my eyes closed and bury my face in the pillow. My throat is sore, my body feels weak and _oh fuck just what did I do last night_?!  
  
My momentary comfortable zoned-out morning state is gone as I recall everything that went on last night. My eyes snap open and I lift a hand to my suddenly battering headache.  
  
I’m lying facing the window, the early morning sun full in my face. I have to turn round. I have to turn around and look Saki in the eye and tell him exactly what Ruka and I have done. And pray that he’ll forgive me.  
I count silently up to ten, my stomach tightening unpleasantly as the numbers get higher. Then I sit up, and I turn around.  
  
He’s not there.  
  
What?  
  
I look at my watch blearily: 6am. My poor brain is trying desperately to function under the sudden inevitable realisation. Saki is not an early riser. He didn’t come back last night. He was out. All night.  
  
What am I supposed to conclude from this? Let’s try to judge the matter objectively…  
No, can’t do that, especially at this time in the morning. Sakito, who flirted the entire evening with a man staying in the same hotel, a man who has had intimate knowledge of him before, a man who is rich, good-looking…Sakito spent the night with him.  
  
I lean back heavily, hurting myself against the headboard. Such a swirl of emotions are rushing through me that my hands are literally shaking: anger, jealousy, hurt, guilt that I’m even feeling any of these things considering what I did last night. In a way I’m no better than him…but at least I stopped before it went all the way, no matter how much I wanted it to. And a kind of wry bitterness at myself that I actually ever thought Saki could change what is very obviously his natural self and be with just me.  
  
How could he? How could he fuck some guy who doesn’t care for him at all except as a pretty little toy to use and then put away again?! Why did he spend so long making me love him when he doesn’t really need it at all?  
  
I drag my hands heavily across my face, unable to quite grasp everything in one go.  
  
What should I do? I can’t come right out and accuse him! I’m not that hypocritical…at least, I don’t think I am.  
  
More than the actual fact that he’s done it, I need to find out _why_. I don’t want to fight…because I still love him. Dammit, I do. I’m no Ni~ya, I don’t think I can find it in myself to try and hurt him. Although when I see him at breakfast I may change my mind…  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Now, I’ve gotten accustomed to waking up a certain way. Over the last month I’ve become used to it. What will happen is that Ni~ya-chan will rudely deprive me of blankets, literally kick me out of bed and order me to make breakfast. I’m not saying I _like_ this way, but it’s grown into a reassuringly familiar ritual that makes me aware of myself and what’s going on every morning as I plod down the hallway to the kitchen.  
  
What I did not expect this morning was to be awakened gently by a steady warmth resting over me and a soft pressure on my lips.  
  
I open my eyes wide, then let them fall closed again as soon as I register Ni~ya-chan leaning over me, kissing me carefully, unusually not trying to cut off my breathing by leaning his full weight on me as is customary. I lift my hand and gently caress the back of his neck where his white skin is so sensitive. He shivers, a little gasp escaping him.  
  
“Sorry, I…I didn’t mean to wake you up”. He sits up, looking nervous as if he’d done something wrong by touching me.  
  
I lift myself up on my elbows, not wanting to lose his warmth.  
“It’s ok, Ni~ya-chan. Please, come back down here”.  
  
I see hurt warring with love in every line of his tense body and it brings a lump to my throat. Before he can decide to scarper I take one of his hands firmly and slowly tug him back down next to me, rolling over so he’s trapped between my arms and looking up at me uncertainly, not meeting my eyes.  
  
“I like this wake-up” I tell him, leaning down to whisper the words against his lips. “You should do it more often”.  
  
“If it would make you happy”, he acquiesces, tempering his voice for quiet and unresistingly letting me kiss him, lifting his head to meet me. I feel horribly guilty that my own indiscretions have caused such unnatural behaviour…but I can’t deny it’s attracting me (Ni~ya-chan was right with what he said first time round…I am a terrible person). I break the kiss gently, resigned to getting up and going to breakfast before we get kicked out of the room.  
  
“If there’s anything else I can do for you…” he murmurs softly, his hand travelling tantalisingly down my stomach. I gulp.  
  
“Later”, I promise him fervently, not about to let any rare opportunity like this pass me by. Oh yes, I do like this!  
  
  
  
But when we get down to the breakfast room I realise how stupid I was to think that everything might be ok. As soon as I register Yomi hunched miserably over his orange juice I feel Ni~ya-chan start back involuntarily; I shoot a quick sideways glance at him to see his face flushed with anger and pain; then as quickly it’s gone, replaced by a neutral expression of acceptance, although I can tell that he’s barely holding back from going over there and starting a minor war. I can feel his arm shaking against my side and I grab it above the elbow to keep him beside me.  
  
He lets out a trembling sigh and bows his head resignedly although he remains as tense as a coiled wire. I pull him over into an alcove by the door.  
  
“You know we don’t have to go in there if you don’t want to”, I reassure him, probably just as much for my benefit as his.  
  
He swallows visibly.  
“No. We can’t have another feud like last time…I know you don’t want to hurt him, I know you don’t want to be apart from him”. Knows a lot more than me, then. “It’s ok, I…I don’t mind”. All this delivered in a soft little voice that’s so unlike his normal tone I wonder for a minute if it’s really even Ni~ya-chan. He won’t look up at me.  
  
I feel a moment of exquisite aching that he’s doing all this to try and avoid me getting hurt (despite the fact that I’d far rather stay clear of Yomi this morning, thank you very much), and a strangely pleasurable little tingle at his sweet and submissive tone of voice that makes me shake my head at myself; I shouldn’t be getting off on Ni~ya-chan’s traumatised behaviour!  
  
I steel myself and make my way over to where Yomi’s sitting like a little abandoned kid, Ni~ya-chan following just behind my shoulder. He twitches as we sit down, and even before meeting his eyes I can see he looks absolutely terrible, face pale, dark smudges under his eyes. He looks up finally and it’s not at me. He meets Ni~ya-chan’s eyes with such a mixture of guilt, sorrow and anger that even Ni~ya-chan looks shocked, and refrains from saying anything.  
  
Sakito must have really taken it badly.  
  
Ni~ya-chan stands up abruptly.  
“Can I get you both some breakfast?” he asks quietly. Yomi looks almost terrified at being addressed by him and shrinks even smaller in his chair. Ni~ya-chan tries a little smile that almost works.  
  
“If it’s ok with you”, I answer just so that we don’t all sit here and stare at each other for eternity. He nods and walks off with alacrity, and I notice him surreptitiously wipe at his eyes with the back of his hand. Why is he doing this to himself?  
  
We sit there, not talking, the awkwardness so intense I can almost taste it. I wish he’d snap out of his helpless look because that’s the one thing that I can’t resist about Yomi. He’s so small, so fragile-looking (Dear god I can’t stop myself!)…  
  
Just as I’m about to open my mouth and say god knows what to him, Ni~ya-chan returns with a tray, almost colliding with Sakito as they approach the table. I take an appraising, guilty look at Saki. He looks like he has quite a headache. Hitsugi follows a minute behind him, his mouth a thin line of disapproval, although that could just be his regular morning face.  
  
“Morning all!” Saki bids us cheerfully and sinks down next to Yomi, who stiffens up immediately and mumbles something incoherent. I mentally scratch my head; isn’t there a bit of weird role reversal going on here? Saki, for all his sleepless look, is perfectly cheery as he always is in the mornings, whereas Yomi is the one who looks hurt.  
  
“Could you pass the juice, Yomi?” asks Saki in his normal manner. Yomi does so in silence and with bad grace, and shoots Saki an odd look from under his lashes which Saki doesn’t catch, being absorbed in pouring out his beverage. Yomi looks almost angry at Saki. Why? (You’d think I’d have learned to stop watching Yomi by now…)  
  
Maybe Saki just doesn’t care. We all know what he used to be like; maybe that’s why Yomi’s so upset, that Saki just isn’t bothered if Yomi’s playing around. I can understand that, I’d be pretty offended if Ni~ya-chan just brushed it off, too. Although I’m not sure his current attitude isn’t even more disturbing.  
  
“Are you feeling ok, Ni~ya?” asks Saki, blithely chatting away. “You’re looking a bit pale”.  
  
Ni~ya-chan looks up from his place by my side and nods carefully.  
“Just a bit of a headache”.  
  
“Oof, me too!” Saki rubs his temple ruefully. “Last time I go out drinking for a while, I could have been doing _anything_!”  
  
Hitsugi’s look of disapproval deepens.  
  
All of a sudden Yomi pushes his chair back and stands up, almost oversetting the table, and walks firmly off without saying a word. Saki watches with astonishment for a minute, then makes his excuses and leaves in the same direction, looking concerned and pretty.  
  
I feel a polite tug at my sleeve, and turn to see Ni~ya-chan with his plate half-empty.  
“Do you mind if we go, Ruka?” he asks in that same little voice that sends tingles down my spine. I nod and we get up; he stands close by me as if I might disappear any minute.  
  
“See you in a bit”, I tell Hitsugi, who just stares at us in disbelief at the general lack of manners around here this morning, then shrugs philosophically and makes a start on Saki’s breakfast.  
  
  
As soon as we get out of the main hall I push Ni~ya-chan against the wall and kiss him deeply.  
“I think I will take you up on that favour now, Ni~ya-chan”, I whisper, my voice dropping to a growl involuntarily at the serious, acquiescent look on his face.  
  
“Anything I can do”, he murmurs back, which is astonishing enough as usually any demand of the sort would be met with a pitying laugh and ‘down boy!’; usually it’s my job to wait for _Ni~ya-chan_ to be in the mood. I take his hand and pull him down the corridor to the bedroom, totally overexcited and unable to believe myself; guess I’m finding out rather a lot about myself these days…  
  
…And the sight of him on his knees in front of me, so obedient and beautiful and so fucking _good_ (and it’s a rare and lucky chance I get to appreciate him in this position) takes Yomi right out of my head, and anything else for that matter, for a good long time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BLOODY ANGST! Honestly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yomi feels guilty and deals with it badly. Hitsugi gives some wise advice and veiled threats (because he is a badass. Yes he is!).

I watch Sakito sigh softly as he turns away from me to take our empty plates into the kitchen. I fold my arms and stoically watch the TV, hearing him begin to wash up; I don’t want to go in and help him. I know I’m acting like a spoilt kid, but it’s been two weeks now and he hasn’t shown even the slightest sign of admitting what he’s done or even feeling guilty over it. And until he admits it I’m certainly not going to! He’s acting completely normal towards me, maybe even nicer than usual in response to my sulky mood but it just makes me more pissed off because I know it must be fake (and I’m sure Saki has learnt to be a master at faking).  
  
I grab one of the sofa cushions and cuddle it neurotically, unable to relax. I don’t know why I keep on coming round here, but I can’t seem to stop myself. Maybe I’m just waiting for his superb façade to slip…maybe, and much as I hate to admit it, I still can’t resist him.  
  
“I made you hot chocolate”.  
  
I twitch, he came up behind me unawares. Saki is so graceful, he can move absolutely silently when he wants to. He moves around to sit beside me on the sofa and I stiffen uncomfortably; he pretends not to notice and hands me a sweet-smelling blue mug. I peer in - he’s even put marshmallows in it; sometimes he’s so cute I want to hug him, despite myself.  
  
“Thanks”, I say shortly and focus on whatever this TV programme is, not that I can concentrate at all. I’m totally aware of him even out of the corner of my eye; he’s fiddling with his choppy hair, trying to look at me unobtrusively. He reaches out to pick a loose hair from the shoulder of my sweater and I move away slightly.  
  
He sighs again, it sounds almost heartfelt, and puts down his mug.  
“Yomi?” I don’t look up from my examination of the cushion.  
  
“Yomi…please tell me what’s wrong”. His voice sounds plaintive, sincere. Is this real or part of his act? Either way, I can’t just ignore him because I still want him so much it makes me ache.  
  
“Nothing’s wrong” I tell him, trying to sound reassuring.  
  
“Please don’t lie to me” he says in a lower voice, and I look at him slightly incredulously. He’s gazing at me earnestly, his beautiful dark eyes slightly hidden behind his veil of hair; he leans towards me like a flower towards the light, which is highly flattering to me no matter how fake, and I can tell he wants to reach out to me. He’s so fucking lovely, it’s not fair!  
  
“I said it’s nothing”, I repeat stubbornly.  
  
He narrows his eyes till they sparkle like hidden jewels under his long lashes and leans even closer to me.  
  
“Prove it”, he breathes and the breath catches in my throat from his closeness. “Kiss me”.  
And even now, when I’m so angry at him I could throttle him every time he comes near me, I can’t stop myself and I wouldn’t even want to. I sit up straighter and press my lips hard against his, an uncomfortable but lustful kiss, and twine my hands in his rich hair, pulling him down to meet me as his arms encircle me easily. Almost drunk with what I haven’t let myself do for a fortnight, I gently run my tongue along the seam of his lips until he parts them a little, almost teasingly. I tug on his hair until he kisses me back properly…it seems to go on forever and I’m feeling blissful as I always do once he gets to me. And, as usual, I start to believe that he does love me, because if he didn’t why would he make me feel so good, so emotional, I’m melting like ice in his embrace and I don’t care about anything I just never want him to stop.  
  
But all too soon I feel him begin to gently extricate himself from the kiss, as he always does when I’m getting irrevocably involved in it. And all the anger and frustration comes flooding right back in; now I think I know how Ruka felt for me so long ago, and he was right: it hurts every second.  
  
Abruptly and without thinking I sit up, trying to be taller than him, and push my puny weight against him so, unprepared, he falls back against the arm of the sofa, making a little ‘mmph’ of surprise against my mouth as his head connects. I lean on him, not that it would prevent him from getting up if he really wanted to, but enough to get his attention, and make our kiss deeper, trying to put all of my feelings into it. Then I feel his surprisingly strong hands pushing against my shoulders firmly until I’m forced to break it and raise myself up a little.  
  
He’s staring up at me with wide, surprised eyes, and not surprising because I’ve never really taken the initiative before. But why should he look so shocked? He must know how much I want him, and seeing as sex isn’t a particularly emotional sacrifice for him and he’ll clearly do it with anyone , I don’t understand what the problem is! (Angry again now.)  
  
“You -” he begins, but I don’t let him finish, I’m in too much of a temper.  
  
“Why? Why won’t you let me?!” I almost shout down at him, nearly pleading in frustration.  
  
He frowns. “Wha -”  
  
“Why the hell won’t you sleep with me Sakito?!” I yell, quite aware that I sound like a toddler who’s had his candy taken away.  
  
He stiffens beneath me. Then I see his eyes flash strangely, his fine brows furrowing as he raises himself up on his elbows. When he speaks his voice is angrier and more hurt than I’ve ever heard from him.  
  
“Is that all you want from me?” he asks in a low voice, a strange kind of pain in his face.  
  
“No of course not! But -”  
  
“You wouldn’t be the first”, he says nonchalantly but I can feel how tense he is beneath me. He gives me a little smile which makes me shiver, the twist of his perfect mouth expressing wry bitterness and nothing good at all.  
  
“Saki, I just -” I try to say how much I love him, worship him, want to be with him, but he interrupts me again.  
  
“No! I don’t want to, not like this”. He sounds adamant and angry, still looking almost otherworldly in his fiery beauty.  
We stare at each other for what seems an age.  
  
“I know”, I reassure him, trying to get a word in edgeways, “I understand, it’s just that -”  
  
“Fine”. he snaps the word over my little speech, glowering at me. Then his brow unknits and he sighs deeply, calming himself down until when he looks back up into my eyes his expression is sweet, resigned and serene. He reclines back against the brocade of the sofa and reaches out to take my hand.  
  
“Fine”, he breathes again. His self-control is incredible. “If this is what you really want…then you can have me now. Because…because I really do care about you Yomi, so if this will make you happy…then it’s ok”.  
  
He smiles up at me and it looks sincere but when I venture to meet his eyes for more than a few seconds he blinks rapidly like he’s fighting back tears.  
  
I shake my head and sit up. He doesn’t want this and there’s no way I’m going to make him do something he doesn’t want to. I guess I’ll just have to accept that I’m not right for him, or not right enough; I sure don’t fit into the pattern of Saki’s ideal lover, anyway. I should get out of here before I embarrass him any more.  
  
“I’m sorry, Saki”, I tell him, and meaning it. “I’ll see you later”.  
  
He looks even sadder at my words. “You’re going?”  
  
Now I’m just confused. I thought that would cheer him up! Sakito is the most emotionally complex person I’ve ever been involved with (or am I missing something really obvious?). I nod and he drops his eyes.  
  
“I understand”, he whispers. I stand up slowly, wanting to stay and hold him but knowing he doesn’t want me. He sits up, wrapping his arms around his knees.  
  
“Saki, I…never mind”.  
  
His eyes follow me until I close the door behind me.

 

* * *

 

  
Sakito watched Yomi until the door slammed shut. Then he sank back into the soft confines of the sofa and let out a trembling breath, relaxing his fixedly calm expression and covering his pretty face with his hands. He swiped at his dampening eyes in annoyance and curled his legs up underneath him protectively.  
  
He wasn’t sure what had caused his little partner to suddenly change his attitude over the last couple of weeks, and so didn’t know what to do about it. Sakito generally prided himself on being able to read his friends quite well, but he had never known Yomi to blow so hot and cold, or to act so nasty. Sakito felt slighted, cheap.  
  
He stared at Yomi’s blue mug, feeling a spasm tug at the corner of his soft mouth.  
  
“Shit”. How could it be so easy to sort out his friends’ love lives but so difficult to manage his own? Although now he came to think of it, Yomi wasn’t the only one acting strange this week: Ni~ya was, almost in reverse to Yomi, being so polite and considerate to everyone (especially Ruka) that it was almost unnerving.  
  
Sakito took a deep breath and got himself under control, pushing the hurt to the back of his mind. He folded his slim arms irritably; exactly what was going on that people weren’t telling him? He made a mental note to have a long chat with Hitsugi some time as soon as possible, because, as Hitsugi constantly moaned, he ended up being the unwilling listening post for everyone else’s problems. And as Hitsugi would generally tell Sakito anything he wanted to hear, it shouldn’t be too long before he found out just what the hell was wrong with his band, _again_.  
  
Mind made up he cleared away the empty mugs, blew his nose consolingly and went to bed.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
I was going to go straight home, go to bed and sulk till Monday, but I’m too tense. I decide to go for a stroll, even though it’s bloody freezing, and to my surprise find my feet leading me in the opposite direction from my apartment.  
  
I guess it makes sense. I’m desperate for answers, and since I know I won’t get them from the source of the problem tonight, I’m going for the next best thing: the source’s best friend.  
  
I take the elevator up to his apartment and bang on the door (could just as easily have rung the bell, but I have to vent my frustration _somewhere_ ). Hitsugi-kun opens it and glares outside, his expression changing to one of mild surprise as he registers me; I guess I’m not in the habit of dropping round to see him late at night.  
  
“Hey”, I say, trying to sound casual.  
  
“What”. He looks rather suspicious.  
  
“I just happened to be in the area, and…hi”.  
  
He registers me shivering and steps back dubiously to let me in, so I scoot past him and into the main living area, basking in the warmth. I make myself comfortable on the floor, just as he comes into the room behind me.  
  
“Hey”, I exclaim upon seeing the furry black bundle in his arms. “What’s that?”  
  
He sits himself down in the centre of the room.  
“This is a kitty”. It raises its little head from its comfortable position and takes a long, considering look at me, much the same as Hitsugi-kun is doing, in fact.  
  
“Yeah, I can see that. What’s it doing here?”  
  
“She’s mine”.  
  
“What do you want a cat for?” I ask curiously. He looks at me like I’m stupid.  
  
“She’s company, she doesn’t answer back, she doesn’t fight with me, she doesn’t see other guys behind my back”.  
  
“Oh”. I feel nettled at his barbed remark and subside into silence sulkily. He shrugs and is quiet too, cuddling her calmly and appearing to think about something else. Looking at him I almost envy him; Hitsugi-kun, in his own space, exudes such a peaceful, calm air of contentment that I feel guilty and fidgety just being in the room with him like this, like I’m invading his space or something.  
  
I fiddle with my rings for a while, restlessly. He doesn’t seem bored at all.  
  
“Can I hold her?” I ask suddenly, thinking it would be comforting to hold such a cute fluffy bundle of warmth. He shrugs, and hands her over to me. She sits on my lap and regards me sceptically while I try and make her purr; then in a minute she appears to get bored and languidly jumps down, exiting the room as though I were the least interesting thing she’s ever seen. Bloody cats.  
  
Hitsugi-kun shrugs again.  
“Sorry”.  
  
“Don’t worry about it”, I tell him wearily, “she’s not the only one who doesn’t like me right now”.  
  
He looks at me warily.  
“What are you on about this time?”  
  
I sigh and lean back against a convenient chair.  
“You’re Saki’s best friend, aren’t you?”  
  
Again that look.  
“I suppose so, yeah…” He gives a little smile.  
  
“Well…this is kind of hard for me to say, but we’ve been having some problems…”  
  
Immediately he’s stopped being relaxed and is waving his hands around in front of him defensively.  
“Oh nononono, I don’t want to know about your problems again!”  
  
“Please, you’re the only one who can help me with this!”  
  
“No! Don’t get me involved! I don’t want to hear it!”  
  
“Pllleeassse, Hitsugi-kun!”  
  
“Go and ask someone else!”  
  
“I can’t!” I duck my head guiltily. “You’re the only one I can talk to, there’s no-one else”, I admit.  
  
He narrows his eyes at me.  
“The three of you”, and I know which three he means, “have been acting pretty odd since we got back from that enkai. Please don’t tell me this is why I think it is, because I really do not want to hear that, and you must know it’s completely your own faults”.  
  
This is quite a long speech for Hitsugi-kun, and clearly he is more perceptive than I used to believe. His eyes are forbidding this subject quite emphatically, so I shake my head in what I hope is a reassuring manner.  
  
“No, no, that’s not it at all!”  
  
“Hmm”. He doesn’t look very convinced.  
  
“It’s - it’s that -” Now I come to say it, this is really embarrassing; “Please tell me why Saki won’t sleep with me!!”  
  
“Aaah!!” Hitsugi-kun claps his hands over his ears. “That is even worse!!”  
  
“Please, I really have to know, and -”  
  
“Well how the hell should I know?!” he shouts incredulously, turning as red as I feel.  
  
“’Cos you’re his best friend, and every time I think we’re going somewhere he seems to push me away, it’s like he doesn’t want me and I have to know what’s wrong with me!”  
  
I pause to catch my breath. Hitsugi-kun removes his hands from his ears as they clearly weren’t doing any good, and stares at me like I’m a complete waste of space.  
  
“Is that what this is all about?”  
  
“This what?”  
  
“Is this why you’ve been such a bitch to Sakito for two weeks, is this why he’s been coming crying to me every other day trying to figure out what he’s done wrong?!” He looks more than exasperated now.  
  
I purse my lips, not really ready to bring up this subject but I guess for him to get the full picture…  
“I think he knows what he’s done wrong. It just gets to me that he’ll fuck any other guy he might happen to come across in the space of an evening but he won’t touch me even after he said he loved me!”  
  
Hitsugi-kun pinches the bridge of his nose in disbelief and when he looks back up his eyes are narrowed in thought.  
“What in the fresh hell are you talking about, Yomi? What are you saying he’s done?”  
  
I lean forward to speak more softly, trying to hold back on my resurfacing anger.  
“When we were at that hotel…Sakito didn’t come to bed at all. _He was with that guy_ ”, I hiss.  
  
“What guy?” Hitsugi-kun asks in a tightly controlled voice, tugging on one of his lip piercings.  
  
“That Kobayashi guy you went drinking with. And don’t tell me you didn’t know he was one of Saki’s conquests!”  
  
“He was. And I knew it”, he says quietly.  
  
“Well there. That’s what he’s done wrong. And if he’ll go to bed with one of those guys who don’t give a yen about him, I don’t understand why he won’t with me!”  
  
“Probably because you’re such a _prize retard_ ”, he growls at me, and I gape. “He never went behind your back, he was with me the entire night!”  
  
“What?” I ask dumbly, unable to grasp what he’s trying to tell me.  
  
“He was so totally wasted I had to practically carry him back. Helped by Kobayashi, of course; and he does like Saki. A lot. And I’m sure he wouldn’t have been averse to spending another night with him.”  
  
I glower.  
  
“But he didn’t, because Saki would never, ever do anything to hurt you! So. My room was closest, I took him there and he took up the whole bed and talked all night”.  
  
“Well then why did you look so disapproving in the morning?” I demand.  
  
“ _Because_ he took up the whole bed and talked all night”. He looks at me narrowly. “Besides, there were probably people more deserving of my disapproval than Saki around that breakfast table, don’t you think?”  
  
I gulp, and lower my eyes.  
  
“Sakito loves you”, he tells me darkly. “Although I’m sure I can’t think why at this moment”.  
  
Looking at his accusing face I feel so utterly, completely guilty. I’ve been put back in the wrong with just a couple of sentences. I know what he says is true; Hitsugi-kun doesn’t lie. Now I’m the cheating bastard again and he…loves me?  
Some of the guilt must be showing on my face. Hitsugi-kun leans forward to peer under my fringe.  
  
“Did you upset him tonight?” he demands in a low voice. I shrug helplessly. His eyes cloud over ominously and his lips thin; he pushes back the hair hiding my eyes and stares into them.  
  
“Don’t you ever hurt him”, he says in a way that sounds like a warning. There’s something dark in his voice that I’ve never heard before, and for the first time since I met him I see how I could be afraid of him. Things are clicking into place tonight.  
  
“You love Saki…don’t you?” I state quietly.  
  
“Not like you think. But yeah. I do. So you just make sure”, and he removes his hand from the vicinity of my face and sits up, “that you mend anything you might have done to make him upset. Or you’ll have to explain it to me. Whatever Sakito does he has his own good reasons for and you should respect them. Understood?”  
  
I nod mutely, my feelings all over the place but largely concentrated in a desperate desire to make things right, to apologise, to ask him to forgive me. I start to get up.  
  
“I have to go see him, now!”  
  
He grabs me by the coattail and yanks me back down. “No way. It’s too late tonight and you’re too het up to be seeing anyone. You stay right here, I’ll get you a futon”.  
  
He disappears from the room and returns with some bedding, and the cat. I crawl into the blankets and he, surprisingly, hands her to me. And even more surprisingly she stays with me, curling herself up to my warmth comfortably. I feel a bit weepy.  
  
“She’s called Nancy”. He leaves me puzzling over that one, and turns out the light abruptly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things take a turn for the kinky, and Ni~ya excels at topping from the bottom. No actual plot, but you were hardly expecting it, now were you?

Ni~ya-chan sits on the rug by my feet, head bent forward a little to display a slice of white skin between the dark hair that trails across his neck. I can’t stop staring at it. For the past two weeks I’ve been in a permanent state of wanting him, and being able to get what I want, when I want, doesn’t seem to have dampened me down at all.  
  
It’s the way he’s been behaving, letting me have my own way about everything, never disagreeing, ‘yes Ruka, anything you want Ruka’. I had thought it would tail off after a few days, I know what Ni~ya-chan’s like, but it hasn’t. Every day he cleans up when we get home, he cooks (despite me trying to prevent him - that’s something he hasn’t quite got the hang of yet), he submits to everything I ask him so quietly and sweetly that I can’t help treating him as if he were made of glass, in and out of bed.  
  
“Hey Ruka, can I make you some tea?”  
  
I start out of my thoughts and he’s looking gently up at me. And that’s the damn problem with this whole thing, that it’s so completely unnatural to him; it feels so weird because I know what he’s really like. Sometimes when I ask him to do something I can see a tiny spark at the back of his eyes, and I can sense he’s biting back his natural response, which would normally be something offensive or bossy, I can see his whole self hidden behind those fathomless black eyes; and it’s only a matter of time before it breaks back out. Add to that the nagging guilt at what I’ve done to him, and the added weight of his love for me, and it’s making me feel worse every single day I have to watch him pretend.  
  
“It’s ok Ni~ya-chan, relax. Let me do it”.  
  
“No, I’ll do it, you’ve been so busy in the bedroom” (it’s true - I was painting the ceiling).  
  
“I -” I frown and plop down on the floor beside him, my hand brushing the soft worn cotton of his black trousers. I draw it back.  
“Ni~ya-chan, why are we arguing over who makes the tea?”  
  
He looks at me quickly, then away again.  
“I wasn’t arguing”.  
  
I sigh.  
“How long is this going to last?” He looks at me questioningly.  
  
“I mean how long are you going to keep tiptoeing around me? It makes me nervous when you won’t answer me back”.  
  
“But…isn’t this what you want?”  
  
“I want _you_ , Ni~ya-chan. Not whatever this weird mood is, this is not you!”  
  
At last he lifts his eyes to meet mine, looking torn.  
“But I know what you like, Ruka, I know you like sweet, helpless, non-argumentative lovers…like Yomi”.  
  
“And I only like those things in Yomi because they’re natural, for him. And even he doesn’t act like that all the time, only when he’s in a corner! I love you because you’re the way you are, I love every bossy little order you make, I love how angry you get; and acting all submissive isn’t what I need to make me happy!”  
  
He looks decidedly unconvinced.  
  
“You don’t believe me, do you?”  
  
“I don’t think you know what you want”, he whispers. “If I decide to stop acting in front of you, how can I know you won’t suddenly need him again; I know you both can’t help it but I can’t trust that you won’t hurt me again. That’s why I -”  
  
I grab his cool hand tightly.  
“Please, Ni~ya-chan! Please stop it! Just let things be how they’re meant to be!” (What’s that supposed to mean, Ruka?)  
  
“What a load of -”  
He stops and bites his lip, eyes widening at his slip.  
  
“See? What’s the point in fighting yourself, Ni~ya-chan?” I lean closer to him and raise his chin with my fingers. He fixes me with his coaly stare.  
  
“Ok. Fuck me like you want to fuck _him_. I won’t say a word”.  
  
I blink, trying to figure this one out.  
“ _What_ are you talking about?”  
  
“Telling you straight…you’re not a nice person, Ruka”. I open my mouth incredulously. “Don’t deny that whenever you get close to him in one of his waify moods you want to do all kinds of things to him…you want to be rough with him, you want to be controlling…am I wrong?”  
  
He’s leaning closer and closer into my supporting hand, speaking almost seductively. I swallow heavily.  
“What exactly would your point be?”  
  
“Do all the things you want to me…then I’ll know how you really want me to be”.  
  
“This is ridiculous”. As I speak he brushes his lips against mine and looks up at me with his pseudo-submissive eyes.  
  
Fine. If he wants to do this stupid thing, then fine. I’m getting hot just thinking about what he might let me do…  
I smile, movement that seems as faked as his expression, and abruptly set my hand on his chest and shove him backwards until his head hits the rug. I crawl up over him; his expression hasn’t changed a bit, but his breathing has quickened imperceptibly as he lies passively beneath me.  
  
“No more Mr Nice Drummer”, I warn him. I spot a little twitch of amusement in his lips, quickly suppressed. I lift his head up from the floor, holding him by the hair while I kiss him roughly and he whines a little as I tug on his black locks. I drop his head again when I run out of air and he gasps for breath.  
  
“Kneel up”, I order, moving away from him. He obeys gracefully. “Take your clothes off”. He blushes faintly pink.  
  
“I -”  
  
“Shut up”, I tell him sharply, and his eyes widen imperceptibly at my tone of voice. I think Ni~ya-chan may turn out to be right…I am enjoying this, and a certain part of my body is proving it. I shut my brain up and decide to have fun.  
  
He’s gotten as far as removing his t-shirt and I slide one arm around his back, tugging him hard against me, feeling his smooth, damp skin beneath my mouth. I wait a few moments, letting him wonder what I might do to him, then sink one of my canines into the side of his neck, breaking the skin enough to taste the coppery tang of blood under my tongue. He arches his body up against me convulsively, a tiny moan escaping as his arms go around my neck tightly.  
  
“Aah…” He exhales a soft, pained breath and I run my tongue over the broken skin, digging my long nails into his soft back, driving him closer to me so that my erection is pressing against his hip.  
  
“Still want to do this?” I breathe. He doesn’t say anything but I feel him nod against my shoulder. A shiver passes through him and I push him back, my breath catching in my throat with arousal at his apprehensive face. Kissing him once more, hungrily, I stand up and look around the apartment thoughtfully, looking for something to facilitate the fantasy I oftentimes had about Yomi. He’s watching me uncertainly, but that may be another pretence in itself.  
  
Aha. I rummage around in my paint box until I find the wide masking tape I was using to make a neat line when I was painting the bedroom. Straightening up I wander casually back over to him. His eyes widen.  
  
“Play along with me, Ni~ya-chan”, I smile down at him, no need to fake it this time. He gives a little nod. I sit down behind him, running my hands soothingly down his trembling upper arms.  
“I’m not going to hurt you”, I reassure him. “Just making things a bit more interesting”. He doesn’t have anything to say to that and I smoothly draw his arms behind him. He obligingly holds them crossed behind his back while I fumble with the end of the tape; eventually I find it and I begin to bind each wrist to the opposite elbow, securely enough so he can’t just pull it off but not tight enough to hurt him ( I try not to think about the kind of cursing I’m gonna get when time comes to rip it off again).  
  
Just the action of doing this, the sight of his gently arched back and submissively lowered head, is making me almost giddy with desire for him. When I’m sure he’s all parcelled up nicely I move back round to face him. One look at his face tells me he’s almost as turned on as I am, and a quick wander of my hand down his abdomen confirms it. Huh. Who’d have thought this would turn out to be one of Ni~ya-chan’s kinks?  
  
“Comfortable?”  
  
He ducks his head politely. I eye him critically while removing my blood-red tie, trying to figure out what to do with it. Eventually I lift it to softly cover his eyes, and he flinches a bit as it touches his face.  
  
“This feels odd”, he comments, not a complaint but a stating of fact. I pause before tying it.  
  
“Do you trust me?” I ask, not at all sure of the answer. There’s a long silence during which I grow even more uncertain of my position.  
  
Then, “yes”. He says it faintly, but it’s there. I smile, not that he can see it anymore, and secure the makeshift blindfold behind his head, trying not to let it pinch his hair. When I’m done I stand up again and take a good look at him. I walk around him, silent in bare feet, and I see his head turn and sense his straining to hear where I am. I lean down to kiss him and he jumps as my mouth connects with his, and then softens under my hand that’s caressing his hair lovingly.  
  
Hmm. Well. Now I’ve got him here, what am I supposed to do with him?  
  
Probably I should have thought about this a bit before I started in on it.  
  
“…Ruka?” he asks when I make no move.  
  
“Let’s start by getting the rest of these clothes off”, I suggest. He smiles a bit at that and I firmly push him back down till he’s prone on the floor beneath me, his arms underneath him, trying not to put any weight on them. I lean down and kiss his flat stomach while I slowly unzip his soft combat pants.  
  
“Lift your hips up a bit”, I order, and prod him in the side when he’s a bit tardy. I tug off his remaining clothing and sit back to take a nice long look at him; he can feel my stare, I guess, and stretches himself luxuriously; Ni~ya-chan is generally very secure in the attractiveness of his body, and it’s easy to see why: his porcelain skin is gradually suffused with a faint blush that makes it almost glow, his slender chest rising and falling rapidly with his quickening breath; he’s getting hard under my intent gaze, but I decide not to help him out with that right now.  
  
I heave myself to my feet, leaving him trying to look about him vainly while I pad silently off into the kitchen. I open the freezer and rummage around; I’m sure Sakito said he’d done something like this one time…  
  
I finally find the ice I’d been looking for and dump it out into a convenient tumbler where it starts to melt. Going back into the living room I see Ni~ya-chan wriggling a bit uncomfortably under the pressure on his arms; I grab one of the sofa cushions and slide it under his back, and he gives a relieved little sigh.  
  
“What were you doing?” he asks curiously.  
  
“Sshh”. I sit down again and begin dotting soft kisses down the centre of his chest, then as I feel him relax into the cushion beneath him I slide my longest, sharpest nail in the same path as my lips are moving, so that he doesn’t know whether to cringe away or lean into my touches; he writhes beneath me undecidedly at the mixed sensations. The red line of skin against his chest contrasts wildly with his pale body.  
  
Fumbling in the glass I pull out a half-melted piece of ice, nearly dropping it on the rug as the cold of it bites me. But I get my grip on it, wait a few moments and then carefully place it on his flat chest, leaning up on my elbow to enjoy his reaction.  
  
“Aaah!!” His shocked intake of breath is delicious and he squirms, the ice sliding slowly down his chest, tantalising and soothing his inflamed skin.  
  
“Ruka…you realise…this is so fucking cheesy?” he pants out.  
  
“Pipe down or I’ll have to gag you, too”, I tell him cheerfully and he subsides. The ice has come to rest and is pooling into cool water in his navel; I grin and drift my fingers across his hard-on fleetingly, not enough to give him any satisfaction, but enough for him to moan softly and raise his hips, trying to get more contact. I take my hand away. Once he’s given up I touch him again until he tries for more, and again, and again, a frustrating cycle for him of hopeless pleasure and desire.  
  
“ _Please_ ”, he whines, “don’t stop!”  
  
I click my tongue at him and slide an ice cube into his mouth to shut him up. He immediately starts crunching down on it, which has my teeth on edge; Ni~ya-chan’s a biter by nature and he chews away happily until I tug on his hair and pull him back up to a kneeling position.  
  
Still with that cute expression on his face, but with his eyes veiled by long lashes so I can’t see the wicked gleam in them, he leans forward to kiss the bare skin of my stomach, just above the waistband of my low-riding jeans, letting his tongue flick out demurely for an instant.  
  
Gaah! That is so cold!!  
  
I raise my open right hand to tap him lightly on the cheek, not enough to hurt or even to really sting, but maybe hard enough to surprise him. He keeps his eyes lowered to the floor.  
  
“Ni~ya-chan, don’t touch without permission”.  
  
“Then can I have your permission?” he asks in his little fake-submissive voice, lips millimetres away from my skin.  
  
“Er…yes?”  
  
He hides a smile by pressing his lips to my body again, this time a little warmer, moving lower and lower and creating a definite effect under my clothes. He doesn’t speak but begins to tug gently at the button of my jeans with his white teeth, trying to undo them for reasons my mind can oh-so-easily conjecture; I happen to know that this is well-nigh impossible, especially blindfold, but I let him keep trying, every moment of tension making me more excited, as are his little growls of frustration. Eventually I decide to help him out; I tug him gently back by the hair and hop out of my clothes as quickly as humanly possible, glad that his eyes are covered so he can’t see my ungraceful strip and laugh about it, although I do hear a brief snicker as I’m wrestling with one trouser leg and bashing the back of my shin on the kotatsu table behind me. By the time I’m done he’s composed himself again, looking deceptively sweet and innocent as can be.  
  
“Do I need to ask again?” he whispers softly, leaning towards me and then…  
  
_Oooh…_!  
  
Suffice to say that _I love this man_.  
When I manage to open my eyes from this blissful state I can barely stop myself just taking him right that second, seeing him kneeling so gracefully, slender legs spread to keep his balance with his arms out of commission; I bury my fingers in his luxurious hair, twisting it harshly with every movement of his head, every laboured breath he draws out of me.  
I always knew Ni~ya-chan was _good_ (well, for the last couple of months in any case), but this time he doesn’t stop to tease me from his effectively helpless position and he’s so beautiful like this and before I know it he’s sent me right over the edge and I think this orgasm will never stop, I tug involuntarily hard on his black locks and my eyes flutter closed as I try and keep my knees from collapsing…  
  
Ni~ya-chan waits patiently until I’ve managed to master myself and then pulls his head back slowly; I crack one eye open to see him licking his lips shamelessly. I drop slowly to my knees in front of him, needing to take the pressure off, and he flicks his pink tongue over his piercing, slowly, deliberately.  
I pull him to me and kiss him hungrily (weird taste, should probably have thought about that one), his unseeing head tilting back obligingly and his flushed, aroused body leaning into mine hopefully.  
  
Gonna be at least a little while before I can help him out there.  
  
I kiss him again and then ease him down onto his stomach, his head pillowed comfortably on a cushion because his bound arms can’t support him, hips raised tantalisingly. He whines a little, expectantly, so I tease him for a while, my excitement slowly building again as he wriggles to try and get some pressure on his hard-on which I’m repeatedly denying him and to meet the kisses that I’m dropping all over his body. His breathing is becoming feverish, interspersed with barely muffled moans of frustration at my callousness.  
  
“ _Please_ …Ruka-san!”  
  
Ruka- _san_? Strange, but I _like_ it. Especially in that voice where I can hear his bossiness overcome by tentative submission from second to second.  
  
“Ni~ya-chan, the point is pleasing _me_ here, quit trying to top me from the bottom and just let go. If you’re good you’ll get it eventually”.  
  
He makes a small, complaining noise which turns to a happy gasp as I gently slide a finger inside him while kissing the small of his back; I grin to myself, seeing him trembling impatiently beneath my hands, and continue to play with him and stretch him, taking far more time over it than I need to. His white skin is slick with sweat as he gets gradually closer to the edge, salty beneath my tongue and textured with goosebumps wherever I blow cool air - I’ve never seen my Ni~ya-chan look so beautiful as he does now, black hair falling over his gently flushed face, the blood-red line of the blindfold giving his hidden eyes all the more mystery.  
  
I’m making myself over-excited again, and I don’t want to rush things, so I remove my fingers from his body, trying to exercise the self-restraint I could never find with Yomi. As I move away from him he lets out a muffled moan of outrage and frustration that makes me almost take pity on him and put him out of his misery there and then. But that would just be a waste, now wouldn’t it?  
  
“Ru…” he manages before trailing off, remembering the role he’s supposed to be playing; his hands flex against the tape holding them behind his back and I see one tear of disappointment peek from underneath the blindfold. Ni~ya-chan is so unused to having to wait for anything.  
  
“I’m here”, I reassure him, leaning back to watch him squirm. I’m more turned on than I can ever remember being with him, since the first time, only this time the balance of power is tipped in _my_ favour.  
  
I wait until I judge that I’ve calmed down enough and that he’s frustrated himself enough. Then I retrieve the lube from the bedroom (eventually - how did it get right under the bed?) and try to avoid rushing blindly back in like a teenage schoolboy.  
  
“How’re you doing down there, Ni~ya-chan?” I ask conscientiously as I kneel down and nudge his legs apart a little more, giving a pinch to the inside of his soft thigh with my long nails.  
  
“…mm..?” He almost doesn’t seem to hear me. Well. It’s a rare day when Ni~ya-chan loses the power of speech, no doubt about that. He seems deep down inside his own mind right now, and only whimpers lightly as I stretch him again, trying to go slowly.  
  
“I do love you”, I remind him fervently as I enter him, holding his slim hips firmly to steady myself; a thin whine escapes him and we begin to move together, he’s rocked forward gently by my motion and as I make love to him I close my eyes for the utterly blissful feeling of his adoration and helplessness, his little cries almost animal-like as I grab his shifting hair and tug his head back so his back arches in a smooth curve.  
  
He’s so overwrought that he comes without me even touching him, feels like every single muscle in his body is tensing up but he’s completely silent, and I follow him almost immediately with my second orgasm of the afternoon, the intensity of it almost frightening. I hug him tightly from behind, I can feel my own heart skittering against his back.  
  
I pull away from him slowly, trying to regulate my breathing. After a few minutes of waiting quietly for his knees to stop wobbling, Ni~ya-chan lifts his head as far as he can manage and says softly,  
“Ru…how about untying me, as in right now?”  
  
I raise one eyebrow but am too happily sated to move right this second.  
  
“Don’t let my sugary sweet tones fool you into thinking I’m not damn well giving you an order”, he informs me, tugging weakly at his bonds.  
  
“Ok, ok, just keep still”. I unwind the outer layer of tape from each of his wrists, and find the ends of the inner layer.  
“Won’t be a moment now…” I count rapidly to three under my breath and in one movement rip the tape away from his skin:  
  
  
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGHH YOU SONOFABITCH!!!!!!!”  
  
  
I wince at the sheer volume of sound Ni~ya-chan can produce, and quickly remove his blindfold, not wanting to be on the end of a vicious Sub-attack and trying to placate him. He pushes himself up into a sitting position and glares at me as he tentatively moves his stiff arms round in front of him.  
  
“You utter bastard”, he says flatly and while I’m confused by his sudden personality switch he launches himself at me and kisses me hard on the mouth, flinging his arms around my neck.  
  
“I love you, Ruka”.  
  
“Back to plain old ‘Ruka’ now, are we?” I ask regretfully. He heaves himself to his feet; he’s got carpet burns on his knees.  
  
“Don’t push it”, he warns me. “I’m going to have a bath. Guess who’s going to clean the floor?”  
  
I sigh resignedly, but can’t help my face splitting into an idiotic, happy grin.  
“Welcome back, Ni~ya-chan”.  
  
He snorts and disappears, trying to hide his own smile. I sit back, for the first time in ages feeling at ease. Looks like I might have found a perfect balance.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hitsugi is turning into The Simpsons' crazy cat lady. Ni~ya mildly intimidates Yomi, who redoubles his efforts to woo Sakito with a grand plan that can end in either horror or hilarity.

The next morning, after a night of the most sweet and exhausted sleep he’d enjoyed for several weeks, Ni~ya ordered his once-more enthusiastic lover to make breakfast and then bundled him off to the supermarket with a wry smile on his face.  
  
Eleven a.m. saw him riding the elevator up to Hitsugi’s apartment. He was in a mood to talk, and with the only person who did not appear to be personally involved in Nightmare’s near-catastrophic romantic relationships. He rang the bell, hoping he wasn’t interrupting one of the guitarist’s snooze-fests - he had no desire to have his head bitten clean off by Morning Monster Hitsugi.  
  
The door cracked open and an eye was applied to the gap, which widened as Hitsugi recognised Ni~ya.  
  
“Good morning”.  
  
“Morning!” returned Ni~ya cheerfully. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”  
  
“Nope. Come on in”. Hitsugi flung the door open and stepped back, letting Ni~ya see the small cat perched on his shoulder. He raised his eyebrows at what was presumably the guitarist’s new fad, and stepped in, taking a seat on one of the comfortable floor cushions in Hitsugi’s surprisingly tidy living room. Hitsugi followed him and sank down into the biggest armchair, which, Ni~ya noticed, had a knitting basket by its feet. A red and black basket covered in spikes to be sure, but a knitting basket just the same. He refrained from comment.  
  
Hitsugi lifted the cat up into his lap.  
“Meet Nancy”.  
  
Ni~ya cracked a smile.  
“From Elm Street?”  
  
“Of course from Elm Street”. Hitsugi leant his face down to snuggle against the black fur. “Who’s a widdle cutey-pie, den?”  
  
Ni~ya shook his head surreptitiously. People could be really strange about cats.  
  
“Well, how are things?” asked Hitsugi solicitously, leaning back and relaxing. He liked Ni~ya a lot as the second most sensible after himself, and was genuinely interested to know how he was coping with recent events, and was quite willing to give him advice.  
  
Ni~ya gave a bizarre shrug. Hitsugi was looking at him intently whilst stroking the cat on his lap; he looked fairly diabolic, thought Ni~ya, like some ‘60s super-villain, and refrained from blurting out the numerous terrible pussy jokes that had just swamped his pretty, perverted head.  
  
“You wouldn’t happen to have seen Yomi around, would you?” he asked instead, and leaned back in surprise as Hitsugi gave a loud groan at the mention of the vocalist’s name and clapped one hand to his forehead.  
  
“I’ve seen quite enough of Yomi to last me a week, thank you!”.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“I’ve only just managed to get him out of my house; I sent him home to do some serious thinking”.  
  
“Oh. I guess I’ll go there, then…I really need to talk to him”.  
  
“Er… how are things going with you two…you know who I mean…?” asked Hitsugi awkwardly.  
  
Ni~ya sighed and pushed his shining hair back from his face. A little smile flickered over his mouth at the memory of the previous day.  
“Better than they have been. Much better in fact. But I want to make sure they stay that way, and so I have to talk to Yomi”.  
  
“Well, I guess you know best what you need…unlike some others I could mention”, mused Hitsugi out loud. The cat purred at the sound of his voice. “He’s really sorry, y’know”.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah. And I’ve had to hear just how sorry for the last twelve hours…”  
  
“Is…is he happy?”  
  
“Eh?”  
  
“I mean, is he happy with Saki? Saki seems to be head over heels for him”.  
  
Hitsugi shrugged expressively.  
“Why are you so worried?”  
  
“Because. Because my happiness depends on Yomi being happy”. He noted Hitsugi staring at him blankly and sighed. “It’s complicated…it’s about what Ruka needs and what he thinks he wants”.  
  
“Hmph”.  
  
“So, if Yomi’s happy with Sakito then I think I can be -”  
  
“Well if he wasn’t, I imagine he pretty soon will be”, interrupted Hitsugi smoothly. “I made it pretty clear that he’d _better_ be, anyway”. He glowered.  
  
“Er…ok. Well in that case, I’ll be off”. Ni~ya stood up.  
  
“One more thing!” Ni~ya turned round at the urgent tone of voice. Hitsugi was holding up the cat in both hands.  
“Do you think she’d look cute in a skirt?”  
  


* * *

  
  
  
I sit in yesterday’s clothes, drinking coffee and eating re-heated lasagne (which Saki made, by the way). I’m in two minds right now: one of them is nervous and impatient, counting the hours until I can reasonably expect Sakito to be in a mood to listen to my apology; the other is dully despairing because he’s ignoring my calls and all my messages. At least, I assume he’s ignoring me. I don’t have the energy to do anything this morning, not after the sleepless night I got at Hitsugi’s. I can’t get his words out of my head, I can’t forget about how much he cares for Saki, and the sweet way he shows it. I should be doing the same thing…  
  
  
Ah. Doorbell!  
Could it be…?  
  
I swing open the door enthusiastically, ready to show just how caring and understanding I can be…  
  
…And Ni~ya appears on my doorstep, arms folded, looking fresh-faced and a lot more healthy than I feel right now. What the hell can he be doing here?! We haven’t had a meaningful interaction since that day…  
  
“Er…N-Ni~ya!” I stutter guiltily. The corner of his mouth flicks upward momentarily at my stumbling voice, I’m not sure whether nicely or nastily.  
  
“Is now a good time to have a little talk?” he asks politely, his dark eyes telling me that ‘no’ is not an option.  
  
“S-sure. Um…come in”.  
  
He follows me to the kitchen and sits himself down at the table, hands folded primly in front of him.  
  
“Would you like a cup of tea?” I ask, trying to fill up the silence that’s threatening to blossom in the room. He nods, and I hurry over to the stove and put the kettle on. I stand with my back to him while I make the tea and he doesn’t say anything. I hand him a cup and sit down opposite him. And wait.  
  
And wait.  
  
He’s observing me coolly but doesn’t seem in a great hurry to say anything.  
  
After a while I start to wonder if this is some subtle kind of torture. I fidget under his stare. He sips his tea calmly. I notice an angry-looking red stripe on his wrist.  
  
I wait some more.  
  
“Why did you come here?!” I blurt out, unable to take this horrible weirdness and his coolness any more.  
  
He looks at me.  
  
“Didn’t I hurt you? Why would you want anything to do with me?!”  
  
He continues to stare at me neutrally for some moments, then suddenly slams his cup down hard on the table top, the only sign of just how angry he really is.  
  
“ _Of course I’m hurt_ ”, he whispers viciously, half to himself. “I couldn’t believe that the two of you would do this to me”.  
  
I bite my lip hard to try and stop my now-familiar guilty tears, but can’t suppress a sniffle. I squeeze my eyes shut.  
  
“STOP CRYING!!” he yells abruptly, his control broken for just one second before he continues quietly, “Please, stop”.  
  
I manage to command myself eventually, and find that the anger in his black eyes has receded to pity.  
  
“But I can forgive him…so I can forgive you too”. I gawp at him in amazement. “We’ve been through a lot together, huh, Yomi”, he says wistfully. “We’ve been so close…and I care for you…and I don’t want to lose it”.  
  
Now I’m getting the urge to burst into tears again; how can Ni~ya be so good?  
  
“So…how are you and Saki getting along?” he asks more brightly, leaning back in his chair. Is this some kind of dig at me or is he genuinely interested? I droop metaphorically at my behaviour to him last night.  
  
“Well…we’re…we could be better, I guess”, I admit.  
  
“Saki loves you a lot”, Ni~ya tells me mildly, swirling the tea around his mug.  
  
“You think so?” I ask hopefully.  
  
“I know so. I can tell; he loves you as much as I love Ruka”.  
  
I cringe guiltily at this.  
  
“I want you to be happy, Yomi”, he says earnestly, astoundingly, resting his pale hand tentatively on top of mine. I don’t pull it back.  
  
“You…do?”  
  
“ _Yes_. My happiness depends on yours, Yomi. That’s why I’ve come to ask you to be happy with Sakito - please help me”.  
  
“I don’t understand”, I whisper in confusion.  
  
“I mean, please don’t cry anymore, please be the cute little bright Yomi you used to be: let Saki love you and just be happy with him”. He’s leaning forward now, looking imploringly at me. “It’s so difficult for me”, he says tentatively, dropping his gaze. “I know it’s not your fault - you can do absolutely nothing and he loves you without even trying. But I have to work so hard. Please - don’t make it even harder for him to love me”.  
  
It’s true. Ni~ya is insightful, he knows Ruka so well. I’ve been thinking about this, too: it seems so difficult, such a struggle at the moment to love Sakito and have him love me, and it’s the same for Ruka. And if we stop struggling we gravitate to one another effortlessly and it seems the most natural thing in the world, and at times I’ve thought it would be easier to just stop fighting it...  
  
But I _do_ love Sakito, and he _does_ love Ni~ya. And the struggle has to be worth it; if I can succeed then everyone will have what they want. So of course I won’t stop trying.  
  
“You’ll get what you want, Ni~ya”, I promise him in a whisper, he’s looking so sorrowful I don’t want to intrude on his misery. He looks up and smiles at me, a small but genuine smile.  
  
“And so will you”, he tells me, squeezing my hand fondly. He stands up and buttons his coat. “I’ll see you at practice on Monday”.  
  
“Bye, Ni~ya”. He’s gone. And it’s such a relief to have him be my friend again; I know now that the desire I feel for Ruka is not worth losing Ni~ya or anybody else. Now I can be purposeful of mind again: I will get Saki back, and we _will_ be happy!  
  


* * *

  
  
  
I pluck up my courage, fidgeting on the doorstep, and eventually ring the bell. No-one answers. I wait for a minute, my heart sinking, and then ring again. Is he ignoring me? Still? It’s not like him at all. I mean god knows I deserve it, but Saki’s not usually coldly angry.  
  
I’m about to give up and am turning round disconsolately to walk home, when I hear the rattle of the safety chain on the door. I freeze and it swings open to reveal Sakito, in his dressing gown and with mussed hair, looking pale, sleepy and depressed.  
  
“Saki!”  
  
I shiver in nervous delight as his beautiful eyes light up in recognition, a smile spreading across his delicate mouth, and the next thing I know he throws his arms wide, beaming down at me.  
  
“Yomi! Thank god!”  
At his inviting gesture I’m overcome with remorse and throw myself into his arms, almost knocking him over in my enthusiasm.  
  
“Saki, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry”, I blurt out indistinctly, my face buried in his slim chest. He disentangles himself from my grip and takes my hand, leading me into the house and sitting me down on the couch beside him, the same couch that I made such a fool of myself on last night.  
He looks like he’s drinking me up with his eyes, still holding my hand and stroking my hair, looking earnest, worried and happy all at the same time. His face is so radiant I feel like I could burn up under his gaze like a moth to a light, and I grin back at him inanely.  
  
“I’m so glad you came back”, he whispers shyly. I frown a little.  
  
“I…I didn’t know if you wanted me”, I admit. “You were ignoring my calls, so I didn’t come earlier…but I just couldn’t stay away, I had to come and apologise to you -”  
  
His face is now a study in perplexity. Then he digs around underneath him, pulls out his keitai (which no doubt contains at least twenty messages in various forms from me) and stares at it bashfully.  
  
“Oh…oh!” He bites his lip unconsciously. “I’m so sorry I made you think that! I…was a bit upset last night and I couldn’t relax. So I took a sleeping tablet, and I didn’t even wake up till you rang the bell just now”.  
  
I almost laugh at the misunderstandings we’ve been having, but then remember that it was me who made him upset in the first place…just like it was me who went behind his back when he was completely innocent. Hitsugi-kun sternly warned me yesterday that Saki doesn’t know anything about it, and promised that if he found out and was hurt then he, Hitsugi, would kill me slowly and inventively.  
  
I pull myself together and manage to look as contrite as I feel.  
“Sakito…I’m sorry”. I focus on his long, slender fingers twisting themselves together over and over in his lap. “I shouldn’t have got mad last night.” I flick my gaze up momentarily to his face and see him bite down on his delicate bottom lip, his eyes searching for contact with mine.  
  
“Don’t be”. Huh?  
  
He folds his pyjama-clad legs up underneath him gracefully and leans back as I stare, trying to push down the almost physical sensations of yearning I feel at the smooth movement of his limbs.  
“I’m just being irrational”. He tries a little laugh that breaks into nothingness halfway through. “It’s just…I was kind of really enjoying dating you, and -”  
  
“We didn’t date”, I interject (and then mentally kick myself - my stupidity is reaching near-majestic heights). A fine line appears between his feathery eyebrows.  
  
“Well. I guess. Anyway, I was going to say it was different. It was fun, cooking with someone I like and that kind of stuff”. Riiight. He does appear to be serious. I try to fit my head around the idea of cooking as any kind of fun and fail.  
  
“You cook with Hitsugi-kun all the time”, I object.  
  
“That doesn’t count, he doesn’t like me like you do”. He settles back even further, squirming his way into the corner of the sofa, then begins the obsessive fiddling with his hair. “The point is, it always goes the same way with me. I meet a guy, he fucks me, he buys me a car”.  
  
“Sakito -!” I’m appalled at his bleak cynicism. He shrugs.  
  
“No point saying ‘oh Sakito’. That’s how it happens. I don’t see why I should try and defend it. All I’m saying is that spending time with you makes me happy. I was looking forward to taking things slowly, doing it the romantic way for once, like Ni~ya gets to”.  
  
“There’s _nothing_ romantic about Ruka and Ni~ya”, I mutter, trying to cover up my sudden feeling of being the world’s biggest git. Is this what Hitsugi-kun meant? How come he seems to know every nuance of Saki’s feelings when they’re such a mystery to me?  
  
He looks up at me and his liquid eyes are as sad as I’ve ever seen them.  
“I should have known it wasn’t fair to expect you to wait. I tried so hard to make it fun for you but I’ve spoilt everything, haven’t I?” I feel a frisson of pity as he wipes his eyes roughly on the back of his sleeve, realising that I’ve never seen Saki’s emotions so strong that they manage to push past his wall of composed, elegant beauty.  
  
“Don’t be stupid, Saki”, I hear myself say at the same time as I reach out and pull his hand away from his face. Noticing his shocked expression, I try to clarify what I’m saying.  
“You haven’t spoiled anything! I’ve had the best time in my life with you”.  
  
He stares at me.  
“Is that true?”  
  
“Pretty much”. I stand up, suddenly feeling full of righteous determination, as it were. “I’m gonna do something about this”.  
  
“Yomi -”  
  
I ignore his soft, interrupting voice and squeeze his cool hand tightly while he gazes up at me like some beautiful princess in need of rescue, making me feel for one second like a saviour in armour instead of a rambling midget with a guilty conscience.  
“You’re gonna have fun, Sakito, if it’s the last thing I do!”  
  
I lean in abruptly and kiss him on the cheek, then release his hand and stride heroically over to the door where I struggle into my shoes.  
“Meet me at rehearsal tomorrow, Sakito!” I order (knowing perfectly well that he doesn’t have a choice and will undoubtedly be there an hour before me anyway).  
  
“But -”  
  
I ignore his protest and scoot out the door, trying to think up some kind of plan to show Saki a good time which doesn’t involve taking my clothes off. I have to prove to him (and myself, and everybody else that’s interested) that I’m worthy of being loved by him. Somehow. Dammit.  
  


* * *

 

  
  
Today’s practice has been weird as hell, I reflect to myself as we break for lunch. Am I really the only person who has his mind on the job? I take a look around me, just to make sure: Ni~ya-chan is wandering the studio trying to find a comfortable place to sit down, hissing with discomfort whenever the back of his thighs touch something and throwing me filthy looks. I smirk back at him, blushing slightly at the memory of playtime last night. No wonder he can’t concentrate.  
  
Hitsugi, although his playing is impeccable as usual, has not looked once at his guitar strings all rehearsal because he doesn’t seem to be able to unglue his eyes from the odd couple in front of him. Now he’s ensconced himself in the most comfortable chair underneath the window, interminable knitting out as usual, occasionally looking down momentarily at his work and scratching his feline nose delicately.  
  
Sakito, on the other hand, has had his pretty eyes firmly fixed on his shoes, only breaking off to shoot doubtful-yet-attractive glances at our mini singer, and I can tell why. Yomi is up to something. It’s always easy to spot; he’s chewing on the side of his thumb, his little face screwed up in concentration, sneaking sly looks at Saki. I wonder what he’s up to.  
  
Ni~ya-chan goes to buy chocolate, leaving me with nothing to do; so I sit and watch Hitsugi watching Sakito and Yomi, his face like a placid cat’s basking in the winter sun, narrowed eyes blinking slowly. Yomi seems to have warmed up towards Saki again lately, although Sakito still retains that prettily puzzled expression he’s been wearing for the last few weeks. They begin to speak and I continue to stare at Hitsugi while I tune in to their conversation.  
  
“Sakitoooo”, Yomi croons in the instantly suspicious way he uses when he wants something, “you promised we’d have the afternoon off, right?” He hooks his little hand through the crook of Sakito’s arm. Hey yeah, he did promise us that! I grin inwardly as I think of all the things Ni~ya-chan and I can do to fill up the time, then remember I told him that I’d sort out the blocked sink two days ago. Dammit. How did I get relegated to the role of house-husband?  
  
Sakito looks at him levelly.  
“You know I did. So keen to get away, are you?”  
  
Yomi cuddles his arm in an even more dubiously ingratiating manner and gives him the patented cute expression, although how he can expect that to work on Sakito, master of seductive arts, I really don’t know.  
“Don’t be _silly_ , Saki. I’ve just got some… stuff to do this afternoon.” I lean forward; he really has got some plan on the go, Yomi’s terrible at making up excuses and hiding secrets. I wonder if Ni~ya-chan’s in a good enough mood to do some light espionage…  
  
Sakito looks rightly suspicious, and a little unhappy. I don’t _think_ anyone ever told him about… what happened at the onsen, so I wonder what it is? As I flick my eyes back to Hitsugi in an effort not to look like a blatant eavesdropper, I see Yomi out of the corner of my eye leaning in to whisper in Saki’s ear. But before I can try and figure out what he’s saying, the door slams open. Ni~ya-chan sashays in, flinging his wet scarf in my face, and perches on the arm of the chair beside Hitsugi, who is worriedly chewing his lip ring and still watching Yomi with one narrow eyebrow raised.  
  
“Hey Hitsu”, pipes up Ni~ya-chan, who is also watching Hitsugi closely, “bum a cigarette?”  
Hitsugi snaps out of it and nods; they both get up and wander out the back door, Ni~ya-chan shutting it firmly behind him.

 

* * *

  
  
  
I continue trying to smarm my way back into Sakito’s good books in the hope of getting this afternoon off. He looks pretty pissed, I know he thinks I’m trying to avoid him. I stroke his arm ingratiatingly and try to think through the details of the cunning idea that has just sprung to mind, relieved that Ni~ya has taken Hitsugi-kun outside so I’m no longer the object of his obsessive staring.  
  
Ruka is scrumming jaffa cakes and looking immensely bored, as usual, but I’m very determined not to go and talk to him.  
Just as well: Ni~ya comes back in, looking exasperated and shaking his head. I assume it’s nicotine craving, as he’s in a chain-smoking phase just now and starts wanting a cigarette even while he’s actually smoking one. He cocks one eyebrow at me moodily and I nod back, not wanting to be on the receiving end of one of his tempers.  
  
“Ruka! Are you eating my lunch?!”  
  
I see Ruka jump guiltily. Ni~ya swipes the offending jaffa cakes from his hand and plonks himself down in the drummer’s lap, folding his arms as if daring Ruka to cuddle him. Ruka wisely refrains. Damn, I’m glad not everyone’s as volatile as these two!  
  
As I think this, however, Hitsugi-kun finally re-enters the building. I twitch as he slams the door behind him as though he bears it a personal grudge, wearing a scowl that I’ve hardly ever seen on him before. Guess I spoke too soon. Everyone’s in a lousy mood. It must be… the moon, or something.  
Sakito, who had gloomily disentangled himself from my grip just a minute ago, turns from packing up his guitar to look concernedly at his friend.  
  
“Hitsu, are you ok?”  
  
At his words, Hitsugi-kun’s expression changes from thunderous to calm, and he nods levelly.  
“Yup. Are we done for the day?”  
  
Sakito nods, sighing through his nose and throwing me an unreadable look. He zips his cardigan up across his slim chest.  
“Wanna come shopping?”  
  
Hitsugi-kun nods shortly, going along with whatever Saki says, as usual. Maybe that’s why he seems to know him better than I do; but clothes shopping with Sakito is so depressing, I don’t know how Hitsugi-kun stands it, Saki being one of those people who is guaranteed to look fabulous in everything he tries on yet takes hours over it, drawing admiring comments from all and sundry while the hapless companion (i.e. me) is still struggling to find a pair of jeans that don’t make himself look like he’s five years old.  
  
Hitsugi-kun slings his guitar case over his shoulder and picks up his coat. I catch Ni~ya giving him an appraising glance, and see the immensely bad-tempered, warning look Hitsu throws back, before he turns to Sakito, smiling genuinely.  
  
Saki looks at me.  
“Call me, will you? I…”  
  
“Oh, I will”, I reassure him, feeling Ruka and Ni~ya’s curious glances on the back of my neck. But not before I… _prepare_ a few things, I think to myself, grinning.  
  
As some famous thespian once said: I’ve got a plan. And it’s as hot...as my _pants_!!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the next chapter is an optional read. It's just a little extra I added to the band practice scene so that Hitsugi could have his turn at angsting. Feel free to skip if you wish to go straight to Yomi's comedy shenanigans!


	6. Optional Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short interlude in which Hitsugi complicates things by also fancying Sakito. This chapter is totally optional and shouldn't be taken too seriously because it somewhat screws up the neat pairing-off that's happening. But at the time I was writing I was finally waking up to the awesomeness that is Hitsugi x Sakito and decided he should at least get a look-in!

Hitsugi sat down heavily on the cold steps, letting Ni~ya sit next to him and block out some of the cutting wind blowing around the building. He tugged his long socks up to his knees and dug the cigarettes out of his pocket, passing one to Ni~ya and lighting it for him. Ni~ya didn’t seem to be eager to talk, so he lit one of his own and inhaled, staring moodily out over the city.

After some while he became aware that Ni~ya had stubbed his cigarette out against a step and was gazing at him interestedly, as though he were a particularly problematic experiment subject. Hitsugi puffed the last inch of his cigarette into a blaze of red, then flicked it into a puddle. He glanced sideways at Ni~ya who was still regarding him unabashedly, chin on his hand.

“What?” he asked defensively, exhaling smoke. Ni~ya held his black hair back against the fierce wind.

“Will you ever tell him?”

Hitsugi raised one thin eyebrow blankly. “Tell who what?”

Ni~ya gave him a pitying half-smile, sure that he knew what the stoic guitarist was feeling. He watched Hitsugi pull his jacket around himself awkwardly, shivering. He remembered how long it had taken for him to finally admit how he felt about Ruka, and sighed. So much time wasted.

“Come on, Hitsu. There’s no point trying to hide it. When will you tell Sakito what you feel for him?” He stopped as Hitsugi finally turned around to face him and made eye contact, face pale under his short fringe.

“What do you mean exactly?” the shorter man asked coldly.

Ni~ya rolled his pretty eyes slightly, looking quite unembarrassed. “It’s not been hard to see, Hitsu. I know exactly what it’s like to be in love and not be able to tell anyone, remember? That’s why I’m the only one who can see it.”

Hitsugi looked away, glaring towards the skyline in an effort to stop the corners of his mouth shaking. He hugged his bare knees with his arms, and tried not to listen to his friend’s insistent voice.

“It’s been years now, hasn’t it?”, Ni~ya said kindly, ready to be as patient as he had to.

“What about it?” Hitsugi finally snapped, hiding his shivering hands in the sleeves of his jacket. Why did Ni~ya have to be so nosy?

Ni~ya shrugged. “Just wanted let you know I’ve been through the same thing.” He snorted in half-amusement. “I know exactly what it’s like to have to watch Yomi pinch the one you love from under your nose; the brat’s far cuter than he has a right to be”. He shook his head ruefully. “We’re the same right here, Hitsu”.

“Except that I didn’t go nuclear when I found out about them”, corrected Hitsugi sardonically, glad that Ni~ya had shifted the topic away from him personally.

Ni~ya looked unconcerned. “Well, alright, I might have overreacted that first time. But I got what I wanted, didn’t I?”

Hitsugi shook his head disbelievingly.

“Doesn’t it hurt you?” continued Ni~ya probingly, “to see him with someone else, when you know you could be so much better for him?” He waited as Hitsugi began to break a small twig neurotically into tiny pieces and throw them down the steps.

“I spent years watching Sakito throw himself at rich men. If that didn’t bother me, I don’t see why this should. At least Yomi’s not a bad person”.

“It did hurt though, didn’t it?” stated Ni~ya shrewdly.

“Shut up, Ni~ya”.

“Don’t you ever think about it?”, the bassist asked, looking a little nostalgic. “About what it’d be like to be with him?”

Hitsugi maintained a surly silence, willing Ni~ya to be quiet. He tried to blank his mind, as he’d grown so good at doing, but thoughts kept insidiously sliding in, all the times he’d tried to stop himself from longing for the other guitarist. He gave up and allowed himself one minute for thoughts of Sakito to wash through him, almost trembling at the painfully sweet feeling: Sakito’s smooth skin, the sensation of his delicate limbs enclosing him in a hug, his slender, clever fingers, the lovely and perfect face and affectionate eyes that smiled at him, the sweet, confident expression that took it for granted that he could have whatever he wanted just by virtue of being himself. He imagined himself being with Sakito, being allowed to kiss him, finally having the relief of telling his beautiful friend how deeply he was in love with him.

He closed his eyes and resigned himself sadly to the feeling.

“Godammit, Hitsugi”, Ni~ya’s voice interrupted quietly. “You really feel that much for him, don’t you”.

Hitsugi pulled himself together and snapped one eye open to look at Ni~ya, who was still gazing at him intently.

“Yeah”, he said shortly. “Yeah, I love Sakito, I’ve been in love with him for years, I always will be, and no, I’ve never told him. What’s your point?”

“You could be better for him than anyone else”, insisted Ni~ya, “ why don’t you take the chance and tell him? It’s pretty obvious you love him more than anyone ever has”.

Hitsugi shook his head impatiently, frustrated.

“You don’t get it, do you, Ni~ya? It’s not about what I want, or who I love. It’s what he wants. He wants Yomi, not me, he’s happy. I love Sakito so much, I mean completely; and that means I want him to be happy more than I want him to be mine. Do you understand?”

Ni~ya just looked at him.

“Sakito has what he wants, and as long as that lasts, it’s enough for me”.

“You’d really leave it like that, wouldn’t you?” exclaimed Ni~ya, amazed. “You’d spend your whole life wanting him, loving him, but just helping him get whoever else he wants instead!”

Hitsugi looked at him levelly.

“Yes. I will.”

Ni~ya stood up, sighing deeply.

“I don’t understand you. I hope you’ll change your mind some time, when this Yomi business has blown over. Saki will realise one day that you’re the best thing that ever happened to him”.

Hitsugi didn’t reply. He let Ni~ya go back inside alone, then leaned back against the closed door, scowling. The stinging wind blew over him, sweeping the moisture from his eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst over!  
> Next time: We return to Yomi's romantic disasters!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruka and Ni~ya spy on Yomi. Yomi puts his grand plan into action, but things get a little too hot for comfort. Utter dorkiness all round.

Ni~ya-chan grabs me by the arm and tugs me down a side street. Since agreeing to come and sleuth Yomi with me, he’s been acting very bumptious. Anyone would think I’m too dozy to track someone through a shopping centre.  
  
“Are you nuts? Just wandering along like that, he’ll see you!”  
Ni~ya-chan sticks his head around the corner and peers after Yomi’s retreating back. “Now come on.”  
  
I follow him, grumbling to myself and trying to look inconspicuous as the midget spends what seems an age in a posh grocery store full of weird foreign vegetables.  
“What’s he up to?” I wonder aloud as he emerges with his arms full of paper bags. Ni~ya-chan raises his pretty eyes heavenward as if to say ‘what am I doing with this bozo?’  
  
“It’s pretty obvious. He’s trying to charm Saki, of course.”  
  
“With onions?” I say doubtfully. He shakes his head at me slowly.  
  
“He’s gonna try the old candlelit dinner and roses move”.  
  
“How do you know?”  
  
“Partly because I know he doesn’t have much of an imagination for this stuff, and partly because of what he’s been buying”. He eyeballs me dolefully. “As you would realise if you had a speck of romance in you”. Huh. Ni~ya-chan is really getting uppity.  
  
“I am romantic!” I snap as we duck into a shop entrance. Yomi is looking around in fierce concentration, loaded down like a pack donkey with mysterious packages.  
  
Ni~ya-chan laughs heartily in a terribly sarcastic manner.  
“You’re as romantic as a Valentine’s card that plays a tune”, he hisses in my ear, eyes fixed on the little singer.  
  
“Oh, that was below the belt! When we get home I’m going to _spank_ you!”  
  
He leans back against me briefly, grinning. “Now that’s what _I’m_ talking about. Oh look, he’s dropping stuff!”  
I look. A small potato rolls in my direction. Ni~ya-chan shakes his head, tutting.  
“He should have brought a proper shopping bag.” He picks up the potato, weighs it thoughtfully and chucks it with reasonable accuracy. It wings past Yomi’s left ear; he looks around wildly and Ni~ya-chan pushes me back behind a pillar, giggling helplessly.  
  
“How mature.”  
  
“Come on, this is priceless.” We carry on following him, Ni~ya-chan trying to stifle his laughter as more items fall out of the bags. Ni~ya-chan picks them up and tucks them away in his voluminous coat pockets. I have to say, looking at him he’s not the most inconspicuous of people, with his shining hair and stylish outfit and perfect, biteable figure- Anyway. Yes.  
  
Ni~ya-chan nudges me in the ribs.  
“See? He’s going in the flower shop!” So he is. Ni~ya-chan scampers up and peers in at the window.  
“I told you! Hah, it’s almost as big as he is!”  
  
I nod. Seems a fair plan to me, but Ni~ya-chan is shaking his head.  
“That’s not the way to get Saki. If he was interested in fine cuisine and expensive flowers, he could take his pick from about fifty millionaires. He needs to be _Yomi_.”  
  
“What… a short pervert?”  
  
Ni~ya-chan throws me another look.  
“You know what I mean. Come on. We have to do something about this.”  
  
“Why are you so interested in matchmaking all of a sudden?” I enquire as I tail him down the road. He cocks an eyebrow, still looking at Yomi.  
  
“I’ve got good reasons. Now hurry up.”  
  


* * *

  
  
  
I struggle my way down the street, fighting to keep a grip on my shopping bags and leaving a trail of miscellaneous vegetable items in my wake. What is it about carrier bags nowadays? Flimsy, that’s what they are. In my day - arrgh, I’m turning into my grandfather! (oh well, at least that entitles me to one of those old-people shopping carts…)  
I grip my shopping list firmly in my teeth and try vainly not to shed petals around me like a disorganised version of a flower fairy (no height comparisons, thank you very much!). It’s no good. Maybe I should have asked for this thing to be delivered, it’s at least as big as me. But what’s a meaningful bouquet if you can’t present it in person?  
  
“Ow… monkeys…” I try out Hitsugi’s new suggested regime of not swearing like a b- like a sailor as a thorn pokes me in the chin. Not very satisfying, I must say. People are looking at me. Argh. Lots of people are looking! Also, I think someone’s following me; I keep hearing sniggers behind me, and I swear someone just threw an escaped potato at my head. It’s enough to make a guy paranoid, and I need my full wits about me if I’m gonna charm Sakito in the manner to which he is accustomed!  
  
I try to read my list without taking it out of my mouth, and in my subsequent cross-eyed state am unable to defend myself as a lanky arm reaches out and whips the bouquet out of my hands. I let out a muffled howl as I’m pricked mercilessly, but I’m unwilling to relinquish my shopping bags until I assess the nature of the problem.  
  
“Oi, Chibi”.  
  
I uncross my eyes and close them despairingly.  
“Mmmph!”  
  
“Say what?” Ni~ya leans down and removes the sheet of paper from my mouth. I open my eyes to see Ruka leaning on a low wall behind him, inspecting my flowers critically and dropping ash from his cigarette all over them.  
  
“This is not the time!” I yell, finally able to speak. “Give me that back!”  
  
“Er, nope”. Ruka continues his examination. I clench my fists as best I can.  
  
“You b- you f-” Ugh, this is harder than I thought. “You _bounder_!”  
  
Ruka seems puzzled, although I admit it’s hard to tell with him.  
“What’s a bounder?”  
  
“Ah”. Ni~ya nods wisely. “I see Hitsu’s got you going down the polite route”.  
  
I mumble something non-committal.  
  
“It won’t work”, Ni~ya continues matter-of-factly. “It works for him because he’s a naturally nice, polite guy”.  
  
“Are you saying I’m not?!”  
  
“ _Yes_ ”. He winks at me infuriatingly.  
  
I resist the urge to stamp my foot and throw a fit.  
“At least give me back my flowers then, you git!”  
  
“That’s better”. He slings an arm round my shoulders and proceeds to impart some fatherly advice. “Now Yomi. Do you really think _flowers_ are going to win over a beauty like Sakito?”  
  
“It’s always worked before!” I mutter defensively, wondering if it actually has.  
  
“Ok, fine, for any random girl I admit it’s a winner. But… our Saki has had bouquets bigger than your _house_. You can’t top it!”  
  
I notice Ruka raise his eyebrows sceptically and tuck the bouquet behind him after thoughtfully prodding at the thorns.  
  
“You need the personal touch”, Ni~ya continues as if he’s a world expert in seduction. “Try to be witty and approachable”.  
  
“Are you getting this stuff out of a book?” I ask suspiciously.  
  
Here Ruka chimes in hurriedly with “just _don’t_ use that old aeroplane joke of his!”  
  
“What joke?!”  
  
Ni~ya grins proudly. I can tell this one is gonna be certifiable. “You know, treat your aeroplane like you treat your woman”.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
Ruka rolls his eyes and explains in a sing-song voice: “‘Get inside her five times a day and take her to heaven and back’. Bloody hell, that is _ancient_ , Ni~ya-chan!”  
  
I groan. How am I supposed to have presence of mind with stuff like this getting thrown at me?!  
“Ni~ya, has that line _ever_ seduced someone?”  
  
“Well no, but it amuses _me_ ”.  
  
“Please”, I beg. “Please, leave me alone! Don’t make it worse than it already is!”  
They look at me blankly. I turn around and trudge away. An onion spills from a bag but I can’t find the heart to rescue it.  
  
As I leave I hear Ruka murmur “d’you think that was enough?” and Ni~ya laughs in a way that sounds horribly like a snigger. “Oh, I should think so. Trust me on this. Now let’s go play.”  
  


* * *

  
  
  
I speed dial Saki’s number and let it ring, clamping the phone between my ear and my shoulder and lurching like a crab around the kitchen.  
  
A crackle.  
  
“Yomi?”  
  
“Saki!” Bump, scuffle, thud. “Saki, can you hear me?”  
  
“Er… yes?”  
  
“Will you come over tonight?” I’m praying he’s not too pissed at me to say no.  
  
A pause, in which I hop up and down mouthing pleasepleaseplease…  
“I guess. What time?”  
  
“Um, before dinner. Don’t eat dinner. Very important.” Well done genius, give away your master plan!  
  
Another crackle. I hear Hitsugi-kun mutter something in the background, and Saki comes back on the line.  
“Yeah, ok. Um… should I bring overnight stuff?”  
  
“If you like”, I say casually, putting on my best act of a person completely disinterested in Sakito’s body.  
  
“Right. Well. See you later.”  
  
“Yep.”  
  
“Well.”  
  
“Bye then.”  
  
“Bye, Yomi.”  
  
Well, that was awkward. But no time to think of that now!  
  
_Okay_. I rub my hands together, grab the scissors out of the drawer, drop them on my foot and hop around the room for a few moments, gritting my teeth in sheer agony and trying not to swear at the top of my voice. I pull myself together and set out to woo the one I love, armed with stationery, the kids’ Craft TV channel and the beginner’s version of Cook Your Way to Romantic Success.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Sakito waited in the entrance of Yomi’s apartment block, stamping his feet, watching his breath hang in the chilly air. In deference to what Yomi had made sound very much like a dinner date he was wearing a very fitted velvet suit and was, not to put too fine a point on it, bloody freezing. He’d been to so many romantic dinners in the past that it was no longer a big excitement for him; but any attempt Yomi made to cook had to be worth seeing, although possibly not actually eating.  
  
He pressed the buzzer with one chilly finger and waited. It was true that he’d been on the point of refusing the invitation and indulging in some rare sulking, but Hitsugi had growled at him to go, and the stoic guitarist usually knew what he was talking about. Sakito hoped it would be worth it.  
  
“Hurry up”, he muttered under his breath, tucking his hands under his arms to stop the wind rubbing them raw.  
Eventually there came a fizzle of electricity from the intercom, a faint crash and the muffled sound of someone doing the most interesting swearing Sakito had heard in some time.  
  
“ --- ow! Dang it, you f- ow - you sonofanelephant… Sakito? Are you still there?”  
  
“Yes, I’m _still_ here”, Sakito said pointedly. “And this wine will be frozen in a minute.”  
  
“Wine, great, bring it up.” The buzzer sounded and Sakito pushed open the door, marvelling at the general… uniqueness of his lover.  
  
Yomi met him at the door wearing an apron and a sheepish expression. Sakito kissed him absentmindedly on the cheek and peered past him, looking for any signs of culinary carnage.  
  
“Everything’s going _fine_ , Saki”, Yomi reassured him hurriedly, taking him by the hand and leading him into the living room, which was lit dimly and romantically by means of whatever item of red clothing Yomi had found suitable to throw over the lampshades.  
  
“Nice, er, ambience”, Sakito commented, not knowing whether to laugh.  
  
“Thanks!” countered Yomi, completely deadpan. Sakito settled for an expression of polite interest and made himself elegantly comfortable on the sofa, brushing his windswept hair back into place and wishing he had a mirror.  
Yomi shuffled his small feet.  
  
“I, er, got you some flowers.”  
  
“Yes?” Sakito was unsurprised. Clearly the singer was doing this by a very traditional book. “And…?” he prompted after nothing was forthcoming.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“At this point the done thing would be to _give_ me the flowers.”  
  
“Oh! Oh, yeah. Wait a minute, then”. Yomi looked around wildly, then trotted off down the hall. Sakito chuckled to himself resignedly.  
  
“Er. They might not be quite what you’re hoping for”, came Yomi’s muffled voice from inside the hall cupboard.  
  
“I’m sure I’m not hoping for anything”, Sakito replied patiently. Yomi shuffled back in with something hidden with difficulty behind his back. He pulled out a bouquet with a flourish, held it out at arm’s length, then sighed.  
  
“Sorry.” When Sakito made no move to take them, just sat and stared at them, he drooped. “I know they’re… kind of rubbish.” As Sakito started to open his mouth he carried on in a rush, “but Ruka and Ni~ya stole the proper flowers, and they were really pretty, honestly, but they wouldn’t give them back, and I didn’t have any more money, so-”  
  
Sakito interrupted him by reaching out to touch one of the petals inquisitively.  
“Paper?”  
  
Yomi looked embarrassed.  
“Well I couldn’t think what to do and I saw this kids’ art programme last week where they showed you how to make origami flowers and I know they always repeat it on Fridays”, he took a breath, “ _not_ that I make a habit of watching it you know, ahaha, so I thought it might look ok and I still had this paper my aunt gave me two years ago, she thinks I’m still five I swear, and -”  
  
Sakito held up a hand.  
“Stop, I get it!”  
  
Yomi sighed glumly and sat down cross-legged on the floor.  
“But… they’re not beautiful, you should have the most beautiful things.”  
  
Taking the bouquet from him, Sakito turned it around, examined the lovely paper and the neat shapes.  
“It must have taken ages”.  
  
“Pretty much.” He wiggled his plaster-tipped fingers gloomily. “These aren’t for show, y’know. Paper cuts hurt like a b- like a bad thing.”  
  
“You’re such an idiot”, Sakito chided, his pretty face splitting into a wide smile of genuine pleasure. “No-one’s ever given me anything like this before.”  
  
“I bet”, said Yomi darkly.  
  
“I mean they’re wonderful! I can’t believe you spent so much time on me…”  
As the little singer looked at him incredulously, Sakito grabbed him daintily by the front of his apron and pulled him upwards, leaning down to kiss him firmly on the mouth. Yomi hesitated for an instant, then reached out to stroke Sakito’s feathered hair, kissing him back slowly. Sakito wrapped his arms around Yomi’s waist, losing himself in the first kiss without resentment they’d shared for he couldn’t remember how long. As he was becoming breathless, however, Yomi broke the kiss and pulled back, hand resting on Sakito’s cheek. Sakito met his eyes questioningly, but he just smiled easily.  
  
“Do you want a drink?”  
  
“Um… yes?”  
  
Yomi nodded, disentangled himself gently from Sakito’s arms and wandered off into the kitchen, grinning to himself at the remembered sensations of the beautiful guitarist’s mouth on his.  
Sakito sat looking after him, unable to work out quite where this was going. _Technically_ it was proceeding according to accepted standard: flowers, kissing, wine; but it certainly had the Yomi stamp all over it and it was anyone’s guess what was coming next.  
Sakito picked up his flowers again, carefully inspecting each delicate stem and blossom. They really were pretty. And, of course, they wouldn’t shed petals everywhere. He unbuttoned his jacket and arranged himself more attractively over the sofa.  
  
Yomi returned safely with two brimming glasses of wine. Sakito reflected wryly that when it came to alcohol Yomi became miraculously less clumsy, a trait he shared with Hitsugi.  
  
“Budge up!” said Yomi cheerfully, handing Sakito a glass and taking a large swig from his own.  
  
“Charming. So”, continued Sakito, shifting along the sofa to make room for his partner, “what are you going to surprise me with next?”  
  
Yomi winked, looking pixyish. “Well-kept secret.” Sakito stroked the chestnut hair at the nape of his neck fondly.  
  
“What is all this in aid of, Yomi?” he asked, knowing by now that tactful questions were a waste of breath when it came to the vocalist.  
  
“I told you I’d make you have fun, didn’t I?”  
  
“Huh. Yeah. Actually you did.”  
  
“So, this is it! You are having fun, aren’t you?” asked Yomi anxiously. Sakito just smiled expansively, moving closer. “I just wanted to show you that I love you.”  
  
“You are _so cute_ ”, murmured Sakito, narrowing his eyes playfully and darting in to kiss Yomi on the mouth again.  
  
“I’ve got a film we could watch later”, continued Yomi, determined to show just how uninterested he was in giving in to Sakito’s caresses.  
  
“It’s not porn, is it?”  
  
“No it is most certainly not porn! What kind of guy do you take me for?!”  
  
Sakito was unable to suppress a delicate snort. “Yomi. I do know you.”  
  
“Actually”, said Yomi with an air of injured pride, “ it’s _The Hills Have Eyes_ ”.  
  
“Oh, _romantic_.”  
  
Yomi poked Sakito in his flat stomach, giggling his high pitched giggle as the guitarist gasped indignantly and grabbed him, pinning him down amongst the sofa cushions and kissing him on the neck.  
  
Two minutes and one minor fit resulting from tickling later, Sakito lifted his head and sniffed the air daintily.  
“Yomi, what are you cooking tonight?”  
  
“Chicken”, said Yomi proudly.  
  
“Well… can’t you smell something odd?”  
  
They both looked unwillingly towards the closed kitchen door.  
“Is it me… or is that smoke?”  
  
Yomi stared for three seconds, leapt up and skidded down the hallway. He pressed both hands against the door, then flung it open.  
  
“HOLY MARY MOTHER OF GOD!!!”  
  
Evidently he was breaking the swearing ban for emergencies, thought Sakito as he skidded to a halt, looking rapidly around him. Grey smoke was pouring from the cooker, little tongues of flame visible in the heart of it. It billowed into Sakito’s face, making him cough.  
  
“Yomi -”  
  
“JESUS CHRIST MONKEYBALLS!!”  
  
“ _Yomi_!”  
  
“Huh?!”  
  
“Get out of the way you moron!” yelled Sakito, who in his presence of mind had grabbed the fire extinguisher. He brandished it. “It’s only a little fire!” He elbowed Yomi aside, pulled open the oven door with his foot and aimed the extinguisher at it. There was a loud hiss, a flurry of foam and the flames disappeared.  
Sakito exhaled in relief.  
  
“Ok, I think we’re -”  
The rest of his sentenced was drowned out by the piercing sound of the overhead alarm.  
  
“-!-”  
  
“WHAT?”  
  
“I said, bugger!” shouted Sakito over the din. “They’ll call the fire crew out now.”  
  
“Oh whoops.”  
  
  
  
Some time later they sat outside on the back of the fire engine, wrapped in yellow jackets donated most generously to Sakito by admiring firemen.  
  
“It’ll be fine, they said”, Yomi commented at length. “It’ll just smell of smoke till I get it cleaned.”  
  
“Uhuh.”  
  
Yomi swung his legs absently. Sakito coughed once or twice, then spoke up thoughtfully.  
  
“Yomi… you know when I asked you what the next surprise was going to be?”  
  
“Well?”  
  
“It wasn’t that, was it?”  
  
“Oh har har.”  
  
The last of the fire crew trudged out of the building. Sakito hopped off the back of the truck and they smiled at him reassuringly while he thanked them very politely. They took a look at Yomi, shook their heads among themselves, then drove off.  
  
Sakito felt so sorry for his dejected little lover, but was somehow unshocked by the turn the evening had taken. He pulled Yomi to his feet and wrapped his arms around him, oblivious to the curious glances of various neighbours. Yomi leaned his head against Sakito’s slim shoulder and huffed out a resigned sigh.  
  
“Why does nothing ever go the way I want?”  
  
Sakito ruffled his hair comfortingly.  
“You can’t stay here tonight. Come back with me.”  
  
“If it’s what you want…”  
  
“It is. Come on.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruka and Ni~ya have spiky rose-based sex, followed by housework. Yomi's plan comes to fruition in the cheesiest, sappiest manner possible. And everyone lives happily ever after except Hitsugi (who is totally getting some in all my later fics!).

Ni~ya-chan wiggles his door key in the lock fruitlessly, swearing fluently and creatively under his breath at the general injustices of snow, frostbite and unhelpful boyfriends.  
  
“Just take your damn gloves off and hurry up,” I complain, peering over his shoulder impatiently, my breath crystallising in the freezing air.   
  
“Well - if you’d put down that garden centre for two seconds and - _help_ \- me,” he mutters, struggling to push the frost-sealed door open.   
  
“Hell no.” I’ve been hanging on to Yomi’s ridiculously oversized bouquet all through dinner in the anticipation of romantic manoeuvres in the dark, and it’s coming apart; I’ll be damned if I drop it now.   
  
Ni~ya-chan snarls in exasperation and slams his shoulder against the door, finally bursting it open and allowing a wave of warmth to hit us. I follow him into the hall, gratefully shutting out the night air, and watch him appreciatively as he strides moodily ahead of me, gracefully and thoughtlessly stripping off his coat, scarf and gloves. I pick them up with one hand from the floor where he’s dumped them (I don’t care how domestic and prissy it is, I _cannot stand_ mess!), and reflect on how embarrassingly teenage-boy horny it makes me just to watch one man take off his outerwear.   
  
As I stand there, gawking at him and trying to curb the stoned-zombie expression that he says I always wear at critical moments, I feel the tastelessly gargantuan heap of roses start to slip from their cellophane out of my arms. Bugger bugger. I dart through into the bedroom and dump them on the quilt before they slice up my arms any more. Huh. Looks pretty classy, though I do say so myself.   
  
I dim the lights romantically and poke my head back out into the hall. Ni~ya-chan is in front of the mirror, making a variety of macho expressions and talking to himself.   
  
“I think I might go platinum next, what d’you reckon?” he asks, flicking his inky hair around in a sweeping halo like a Pantene advert. I smirk.   
  
“Do as you please, Ni~ya-chan. Couldn’t make you any more vain than you are now.”   
  
“Hmph. Well, I don’t hear any complaints coming from _you_ ,” he reasons, that crookedly seductive smile appearing on his pale face as he advances towards me. I gulp. Why, _why_ is this man so damn attractive? How am I supposed to keep my cool as the super-sexy disinterested dominant type while he’s sliding his arms around me, making my pulse skip so over-excitedly? I hear my breathing pick up speed shamefully and he kisses me with perfect assurance, the spike of metal in his lip brushing my mouth. I need to do something about this, and _right now_.   
  
I grab hold of his necktie and glare down at him in a hopefully no-nonsense manner. His grin widens and I yank him forward into the bedroom, where he stops short at the oh-so-tasteful and amorous spectacle that I’ve conjured up on the bed. One dark eyebrow shoots up.   
  
“Romantic, eh?” I boast, still holding onto his tie like a lead.   
  
“Ruka, you are _so_ lame.”   
  
“Oh yeah? We’ll see about that.” I push him backwards towards the bed, or at least I intend to. He doesn’t actually move an inch. It’s at times like this that I regret how strong he is; I have the nagging feeling it makes me look like a damn fool.   
  
“You have _got_ to be joking,” he declaims loudly, breaking the mood quite successfully and folding his arms in his quintessentially stubborn way.   
  
“Come on, Ni~ya-chan,” I coax, sounding sadly like my father trying to get the family dog into the bath. “It’ll be cute.”  
   
“That’s fine for you to say,” he contends, still not budging, “you’re not the one who’ll be picking spikes out of his butt for the next week!”   
  
I sigh. “Ni~ya-chan, you are going to get on that bed _right now_ and be ravished.”   
  
An amused glare. “Make me, Ruka- _san_.” Oh. So _that’s_ what he wants.   
  
“Fine.” I lunge at him and he skips backwards out of the way. A thoroughly enjoyable wrestling match ensues, though possibly with more groping than would be considered acceptable as standard. I’m slightly afraid he’s gonna kick my ass at one point, Ni~ya-chan’s pretty quick, and just as I catch him he wriggles out of his shirt and elbows me in the side, making me lose my breath disconcertingly. However. Eventually I manage to pin his arms behind his back, and while he’s trying valiantly to kick me in the head I pick him up bodily and dump him (gently - I’m not a total bastard) on the rose-strewn bed.   
  
He yowls at an ear-piercing volume as his body connects, and tries to hit me. I lean back and he glares at me like a perfect little demon. I hold my questionable temper in check admirably.   
  
“Move, Ni~ya-chan, and you’ll make it a whole lot worse for yourself”, I tell him smugly. He seems to see the sense in that and lies still, giving me the evil eye all the while. I carefully move some of the stems out of the way to make room for my knees, then crawl predatorily up the bed until I’m kneeling above him. His muscles tense beneath his smooth skin as my shadow falls over him, and his black eyes meet mine with the flash of apprehension that I’ve been waiting for before his thick lashes cover them. I lean down then and kiss him, letting my weight press him down into the flowers, releasing their dizzyingly strong scent, catching his gasp as the bare flesh of his back meets thorns. For a long moment he doesn’t move, just breathes very deliberately. Then he kisses me back, a slight tremor in his mouth the only sign that he feels anything.   
  
“Ni~ya-chan, are you ok?” I murmur, stroking the side of his face tentatively in case he tries to bite me or something. I feel him nod then gasp again more sharply.   
  
I lean up on one elbow in a small patch of clear duvet, the fabric of my shirt catching irritatingly on stems. Ni~ya-chan lies motionless beneath me, his pitch-dark hair caught amidst the flowers, his pale skin shimmering with sweat, carefully regulating each pained exhalation. He is _beautiful_. He’s so beautiful that I get lost in it for a minute, forgetting even to touch him, forgetting almost to breathe in the seditiously erotic juxtaposition of his body against mine. I snap myself out of it and slide my hand lightly down his chest, captivated by the shiver of skin beneath my fingers.   
  
“If you want to stop, I won’t mind,” I reassure him, hoping he’s taking this in. He opens one coal-black eye and focuses on me.   
  
“If I wanted to stop, believe me, you’d know about it,” he whispers, and manages a pale ghost of his radiant smile. I lean down again to kiss his throat, feverishly hot beneath my lips, and he lifts one hand to cradle the back of my neck, a tiny suppressed moan escaping him at the movement of his bicep against the thorns.   
  
I work my way down his torso, soft caresses and sharp nips, the taste of his damp skin a powerful stimulant to my already over-eager body, my hands blindly removing his clothes and pushing aside flowers as I go. He’s as hard as I am, and as I start to touch him he kisses me forcefully on the mouth, hand grabbing my hair, torn between pleasure and the pain that motion causes him. I pause until he’s almost squirming beneath me in frustration.   
  
“Please.” His grip on my hair tightens painfully, but his voice is fragile and splintering, tremulous. A sudden stab of guilt rocks me. Shit. I never want to hear Ni~ya-chan that close to tears again, not after what happened at the onsen. I stroke his hair gently, the flowers’ short spines abrasive through my clothing.   
  
“Please... what, Ni~ya-chan?”   
  
He shakes his head distractedly.   
  
“Just... _do something_ ,” he manages, fair skin flushed and trembling wherever my lips touch it. He looks up at me and once again his black eyes capture me and hold me, reminding me like a blow to the chest just how much he owns me, how little point there is trying to deny him anything.   
  
“Ok, Ni~ya-chan, just... stay there a sec,” I say in a moment of terminal idiocy.   
  
He raises an eyebrow at me.  
“You sure? Thought I might pop out for some ramen,” he mutters between laboured breaths. Sarcastic to the last, that’s my Ni~ya-chan.   
  
I shuffle backwards ungracefully and he breathes a sigh of relief as the removal of my weight takes some of the pressure off his bare form. Hanging off the end of the bed, I peer underneath it (tentatively, in case of a nasty shock of the arachnid kind) and, after a period of un-erotic upside-down scrabbling, extract the lube that invariably gets lost under there. Hauling myself back up I push aside as much vegetation as possible; while I have no intention of removing all my clothes, I still don’t fancy being scratched all to hell for the sake of getting us off. Ni~ya-chan lifts himself up on his elbows to let me brush away roses from underneath him, co-incidentally pressing himself against me at the same time.  
  
“Have some fortitude,” I scold him hypocritically as he undoes my pants with practiced expertise. I bite down gently on his perfect pale neck and push two lubed fingers into him; he squirms delightedly, ignoring the remaining thorns, and lets out an unashamedly gratified cry. Guess Ni~ya-chan cares even less for his neighbours’ peace and welfare than I ever did.   
  
“Keep quiet, please,” I mutter, intent on my mission to turn him into a ball of quivering, helpless hunger. When I think he won’t hold on any longer and he’s murmuring incoherent threatening epithets into my ear, I enter him slowly, slowly. Ni~ya-chan hates to go slow, he says it overtakes his senses so badly that he can’t even think, and he digs his nails into my shoulders pleadingly. I don’t want to move too fast because I’m scared for his skin against those plants, but he drags my head down and kisses me ravenously, wrapping himself around me like I’m the only solid thing in his world, and I forget what I thought. I forget everything and let him dictate the pace, aware of nothing but him, his mouth against mine, until it feels like I’ve never touched anything but him and never want to again. One of his hands is buried in my hair, the other tangled in the sheets and thorns, grasping them convulsively as we get closer to the edge; and from somewhere at a distance I hear myself telling him that I love him, I love him, only him, Ni~ya-chan, and then his triumphant, ecstatic laugh pushes me over and I climax, a shattering orgasm that slams through my body and makes me wave coherent thought goodbye.   
  
Ni~ya-chan kisses me and he’s still laughing, his slim chest heaving as his breathing slows, and now it’s a sated laugh that curls around my senses like liqueur. He looks up at me, his gaze more familiar than my own.  
“You are _all mine_.”   
  
  


* * *

  
  
An hour later and I’m back in my housewifely role. Somehow it’s impossible to feel suitably manly while brandishing a dustpan and brush, even if one has just screwed one’s lover senseless in the most raunchy, nosebleed-inducing manner since _9 1/2 Weeks_. I suck the side of my thumb ruefully, having managed to pierce myself quite successfully on these damn flowers during my room-cleaning odyssey.   
  
I hear some more disgruntled splashing and stick my head around the bathroom door.. Ni~ya-chan is still in the tub, still complaining at the top of his voice and still wearing an expression of incorrigibly possessive smugness. He brushes wet hair out of his face and wriggles further down into the warm water.   
  
“I am _lacerated_ ,” he moans despondently, craning to see over his shoulder. I wince at the sight of his perfect back covered with fine pink lines. “I shan’t be able to have sex for a _month_.”   
  
“Don’t worry, Ni~ya-chan,” I reassure him as I return to my cleaning, “you’re just as good on your knees.” A wet projectile sponge hurtles past me and I snigger.   
  
“I hope we screwed up Yomi’s plan enough for it to be a success,” muses Ni~ya-chan cryptically. I lean on the hoover speculatively.   
  
“Huh. I wonder what they’re doing?”   
  
Ni~ya-chan splashes happily.  
“I expect it’s suitably warped. A dwarf and a sex siren, it’s an ideal situation, right?”   
  
“Right...”   
  


 

* * *

  
  
  
I can’t believe this is happening to me. Seriously. Let’s take a look at me: I’m pretty blameless in the general scheme of things; I’m a great role model for several thousand teenage girls; I’m not completely socially inept. So why, _why_ , does every attempt I make at romancing my best friend turn into an absolute farce from beginning to end? Please, God, just _tell_ me.   
  
I hunch despairingly in one corner of the taxi, feeling the burning blush of embarrassment and general failure spread across my face in the silence. I shoot a quick glance at Sakito as he lounges stylishly opposite me; he’s looking absently at the road, his face in the scattered light ghostly beautiful, if sooty. I wish I knew what he was thinking. I doubt whether tonight, after this whole debacle, is going to feature high up on his list of Top Ten Dates, but his expression is as inscrutable as usual.   
  
As we arrive in the quiet suburb where he lives, Saki shakes himself awake and pays the driver with perfect poise and composure, sparing me one quick come-hither glance from his onyx eyes. I drag myself out and trail him up to his door. He makes to step inside and I dither behind him, unnerved by his silence; sighing unreadably, he sets one finger between my shoulder blades and propels me through the door. This is freaking me out. I hike off my shoes and sneak a look at Saki: his eyebrows are locked in a slight frown, delicate mouth set determinedly, and with misgiving I notice that one of his eyes is twitching slightly. What is going on?! He was being so nice to me before!   
  
“Saki... are you... mad at me or something?” I ask tentatively. He doesn’t answer me, just narrows his eyes and points me towards the living room. I obey with alacrity, visions of bizarre revenge-movie retributions playing out insistently in my head. Am I gonna get paid back now for the way I treated him before?   
  
I sit myself down on Saki’s super-duper Arabian Nights-style couch and steel myself for my day of reckoning. And then, as I tense up, I hear from the kitchen the unmistakable sound of someone unsuccessfully trying to muffle a fit of giggles with a tea-towel. Huh? Is this some kind of practical joke? Am I gonna be punk’d? After all the stress I’ve just gone through?!   
  
Perplexed, indignation rising, I leap off the sofa and march down the hallway, about to lift my swearing ban in order to bawl him out.  
“WHAT THE HELL _IS_ THIS?!” I yell. Another shriek of laughter. I enter the kitchen. Sakito is leaning against the worktop for support, not even bothering to hide his hilarity anymore, tears of mirth streaming down his face and slim shoulders shaking.   
  
“ _Sakito!_ ” is all I can blurt out at this point, baffled and outraged. He splutters incoherently, trying to get himself under control.   
“Pardon? I didn’t quite catch that!” I say, mustering all the dashing irony I can.   
  
“Oh, god... Yomi... I’m so, _so sorry_ ,” he manages. My face must be a picture at this point. I meet his eyes and that sends him off again into peals of uncontrollable laughter. I am flabbergasted. I’ve never seen Saki this discomposed (or insensitive) in my life. What could _possibly_ be so funny?! I wisely decide to play the waiting game and stand there with my arms akimbo, waiting for him to turn back into a rational human being. He takes some deep, steadying breaths and stands up straight, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand.   
  
“I’m _so sorry_ ,” he says again, sounding genuinely contrite. “It’s just...” He reaches out to stroke my hair affectionately, apparently oblivious to my death-ray glare. “That was the funniest night of my _life_.”   
  
Oh. That’s just _perfect_. So all that silence, all those foreboding expressions, were just his desperate attempt to keep from breaking down with mirth in public, from laughing at my cataclysmic social disaster? My cooking, my flowers, my near towering inferno... all wrapped up as Sakito’s comedy event of the year. I feel my shoulders slump dejectedly. Why do I bother? Why am I carrying on this perpetual competition with the ghosts of Saki’s past lovers? Why can’t I give up?   
  
As this is running through my brain, Sakito’s perfect eyes widen. Presumably he’s noticed my stricken expression; he moves closer and sets his hands on my shoulders firmly.   
  
“Yomi.” I meet his suddenly understanding gaze. He gives me the slightest of familiar shakes, a small, more acceptable smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “I _am_ sorry. For laughing. But I’m not sorry for tonight.” Huh? “You promised me fun, remember? And it _was_. Maybe not in the way you were intending; but honestly, Yomi, I’ve had so many dinner dates I can’t even count them. This, though. This was totally, one hundred per cent _you_. And I love _you_. Not whatever romantic ideal you think you should live up to. Do you understand?”   
  
As Saki comes to the end of this speech, I realise my mouth is hanging open gormlessly. What he’s saying... it makes precious little sense to me, and one _could_ take it as an insult. Sakito’s mind runs deeper than mine, it seems. But, but, but, insists my hindbrain, just accept this peace offering and run with it!  
I groan. The things I’ll go through for him.   
“Okay, okay... I guess it was kind of funny. In a way. A mortifying way.”   
  
Saki nods at me firmly as if I’m a bright kindergartener who’s worked out a tricky maths problem. Still holding onto my shoulders, he steers me carefully back in the direction I came, until I’m in the living room once more and stumbling down into the embracing softness of the couch. Saki sinks down beside me, leaning over me and pushing me backwards inexorably, all gently tumbling hair and dark velvet. A smile that I’ve never seen before blossoms on his delicate mouth, so subtly sensual that it sends a ripple of prickling shivers up my back. He reaches for me, and the smudges of soot on his face and the faint scent of smoke that still clings to him dredge up the word ‘incubus’: an exquisite demon sent from the depths to drag me down with him. Pardon the corny allusion, but you can’t imagine what it’s like for me at this moment, seeing this expression on Sakito’s hitherto frustratingly innocent face.   
  
“Saki...” I whisper, feeling that insufferable mixture of yielding softness and insistent desire that torments me when I dream about him. I remember the last time we were this close, in this room, and his impassioned speech about taking things slowly, wanting it to be different with me.   
  
“This is _my_ _choice_ ,” he murmurs, that fiery smile still on his lips, apparently divining exactly what I’m thinking. “That’s all _you_ need to worry about.”   
  
I nod automatically, it must look as though I’ve been hypnotised but I can’t do anything else now that I’m pinned under the blazing sweetness of his gaze. His smile fades as he pulls me closer. I remember myself long enough to take one breath, and then he kisses me.   
  
Remember the first time Sakito kissed me? On the roof, in the pouring rain? No, it’s not the sort of thing I’d forget, either. This is one hundred, one thousand times more than that. I’m aware of thinking, for one fleeting nanosecond, that it’s a good job I’m lying down because my limbs have stopped working, and that’s as far as I get.   
  
I estimate that my brain kicks back in about five seconds later, and physical sensation returns with the force of a thunderclap. I’m shivering as though I’m sick, even as my arm slides around Saki’s neck and I cling desperately to the thick velvet of his jacket. I’m acutely aware of his slight weight against my body, his hand moving skilfully through my hair as he kisses me harder, pressing me back against the warm silk drapes of the sofa. One arm slides unobtrusively under me, and he tugs me closer with a fierce possessiveness I’ve never encountered in him before, his lips now trailing kisses down my throat. Then he stops, and even though my mouth is free to speak, I’m incapable of saying anything; I clutch him desperately, thinking I’ll die if he lets me go now. He grabs hold of my chin and takes an appraising look at my face. I manage to focus in on him: his ivory skin is glowing with a faint flush, but other than that he looks utterly in control. His dark eyes flash mischievously.   
  
“Are you ok, Yomi? Should I stop?” he asks, and I want to scream but I can’t, I can barely even shake my head, just press myself tighter against him pleadingly. I never even knew it was _possible_ to feel this aroused. That explosive smile spreads across his face again and I distractedly play a litany of unsexy images across my brain in a heroic effort to prevent an unfortunate and premature turn of events occurring.   
  
Saki starts to slowly move backwards, climbing smoothly to his feet, and I follow him like a puppet on a string with my hands fumbling at his jacket buttons and his eyes still locked on mine. His grin takes on an amused edge as he backs away, weaving between the furniture, and I step where he steps, a little glaze-eyed robot. He draws me into his bedroom and I say a quick thank-you to any gods that are listening for letting it get this far; and as I’m offering up this silent little prayer Saki spins us around one hundred and eighty degrees and sets one elegant hand on my chest, pushing me over into an ungainly sprawl on the preposterously expansive bed. Thank you, thank you, lord!   
  
“Hey. Yomi,” Saki breathes darkly, so incandescently beautiful in the dim light that I catch my breath. “Get ready.”  
   
I feel like weeping with gratitude that my life has finally amounted to this. Then I decide that it would be a waste of valuable time, and instead settle for ripping off my sweater and t-shirt in one go, not even bothering to try and look in control. I’m struggling with my socks in an ungainly manner when my eye catches a movement. I look up. Sakito is languidly removing his clothing, refined and graceful and looking for all the world like there isn’t a rampantly turned-on half-naked midget sitting in front of him. I freeze, one foot up in the air, and watch raptly as pale skin is revealed inch by inch, a mind-numbingly seductive unveiling that has nothing cheap or tawdry about it whatsoever. Can Saki help it that just the normal act of taking his clothes off would put the world’s classiest strip-artist to shame?   
  
Now don’t get me wrong. I’ve seen Sakito naked before. I dare say half of Japan has, he’s not exactly shy. But at this moment, as he stands here like a male, Asian, much-hotter version of the Venus de Milo, I can’t conceive how there could be anything more beautiful in the entire world. And I’m not ashamed of my body, but in the face of such utter _perfection_ I want to curl up and hide. Luckily for me, this feeling is outweighed by the desire to jump on him _right now_.   
  
Before I can take a flying leap, however, Saki has let the last item of clothing drop to the floor, and without so much as a pause sinks regally down beside me, calmly reaching for me and engaging me in another mind-melting kiss. I close my eyes and happily go with it, the sensation of my skin against his a sweet torment of friction. His hand is trailing down my back in soothing motions that are somehow pure torture; I hear myself emit a faint moan of impatient pleasure, and feel his satisfied smile under my kiss before he pulls back. He takes a long, amused, loving look at me.   
  
“You are so _cute_ ,” he says at last, stroking my nose affectionately. In anyone else this would be a certified passion-killer. But Saki just lowers his head and begins to kiss his way down my body, agonizingly slowly, his expert hands sliding over my waist. His tongue brushes fastidiously over a nipple and I gasp; he repeats the action and moves on, playing my body like a maestro, attuned to every breath I take, every sound I let escape. Leisurely he unbuttons my trousers, somehow managing to remove the remainder of my clothes without checking the movement of his mouth in its cruelly pleasurable path down my stomach. I’m almost giddy with excitement by now, my body singing in every place he’s touching me; his fingertips brush my arousal and my hands move by themselves to tangle in the sheets.   
  
“Please,” I hear myself whisper, blatantly begging but I don’t care. He shoots me one last, lascivious smile, cheeks flushed delicately, before closing his mouth over me. I grit my teeth as a wave of bliss hits me, trying not to cry aloud with the sheer, provoking brilliance of this feeling. Saki does this like he does everything else, delicately, precisely and with earth-shattering skill. My breath is coming fast, in unsteady gulps, and yet I can’t seem to get enough air to balance my spiralling dizziness; I try desperately to hold on, not give in too soon to this toe-curling ecstasy. And I’m approximately three seconds away from doing so when Saki stops and sits up, flicking his cinnamon hair back from his face, and I want to scream with disappointment but can only manage an embarrassingly needy whimper.   
  
“Do you want more?” he asks pointlessly, one hand whispering light touches along my thigh, making me wriggle beneath him in fruitless desire.   
  
“Sakito,” I moan faintly, “don’t play games with me!”   
  
“Just checking,” he reassures me, dark-chocolate eyes smiling down at me playfully. Very fine time to be amusing, Sakito! I refrain from tearing my hair out and instead assume a soulful expression, using my very best bambi eyes to make him get the hell on with it before I spontaneously combust.   
  
He smirks and kisses me again, and this time I retain enough self-awareness to touch him every place I can, luxuriating in the sensation of his pearl-smooth skin beneath my fingers. I lower one hand daringly to his erection, and with infinite satisfaction hear him stifle a low moan, a light shiver running over him, and he presses harder against me. Then I lose the upper hand once again when he nudges one slim leg between my thighs, opening me like a flower, his willowy weight resting over me. Dimly I’m aware of him dipping into the drawer by my head, one skilful hand leaving me; he bites down on my lip with subtle pressure, and the soft pain distracts me so I don’t even have time to tense as one smoothly lubed finger slides inside me. His other hand cups my face tenderly as he begins to stretch me, the sensations of just his fingers almost too much to bear. I slide my arms around the graceful arc of his back and he gasps at the yearning grip of my fingertips. I manage to tear my mouth away from his for an instant.   
  
“Do it,” I implore, feeling that this might be my last chance for coherent speech. “I love you, _do it_...”   
  
He smiles again, his pulse coming faster finally. He nods, breathless. Then slowly he enters me and I cry out softly, the pain is nothing, nothing, compared to the essential _rightness_ of this, this thing that I’ve been waiting so long for. I find that I’ve screwed my eyes shut, and open them in time to see his white teeth catch his lower lip as he begins to move inside me. The feeling is indescribable, and perfect, so utterly perfect I’m almost crying, never thinking it would come to this. Saki’s liquid eyes are half-closed, their composure rapidly leaving them to be replaced with quietly smouldering desire, his fine, polished skin suffused with the palest rosy flush. And now, thank god, he has no need for games, for teasing. Gradually, gradually we increase the intensity, and for the first time I don’t feel that I’m being controlled but that I’m an equal partner in this, even as I’m gently pushed, kneaded and cajoled into rapture, wrapped in Sakito’s arms. He moves faster, drawing me to the edge of my capabilities, challenging me to meet them; every place we touch is an electric flash of pleasure, the fine hairs standing up on the back of my neck, my body moving slickly against his. I tug his head down and my mouth meets his again, expressing everything I’ve ever wanted to say to him but found it impossible to do; I feel myself wavering on the brink of a culmination, and this time I don’t even try to prolong it but let him lead me into it, my short nails digging into his back as all my muscles seem to tense at once and I shake with the force of the sweetness in this climax. I can feel Saki’s body shaking above me as he follows me silently, burying his face in my neck.   
  
  
After what seems a long time I sense his gaze on me. I perform the tremendous feat of opening my eyes, my entire frame tingling. My vision steadies and I see Saki looking at me: he’s propped on one elbow in his usual elegant, statuesque attitude, but his fine eyes are wide and his breathing is too careful to be natural. I take one of his hands and twine his clever, slender fingers with mine. I can’t actually think of anything to say at this moment, just enjoy the luxury of staring at him raptly. Eventually I manage to come up with the incredibly pertinent,  
“Er... well... Saki, was it ok?” and then wish that I hadn’t.   
  
A moment of silence, and then a wide, lazily satisfied smile spreads itself over Saki’s achingly lovely features.   
  
“ _Ok_? Come on, Yomi,” he grins. I mentally smack myself upside the head. As if anything Sakito does could ever be only ‘ok’. I gloat quietly to myself at the thought that some of his magic might necessarily rub off on me through some kind of osmosis. Meanwhile Saki has reclined against the headboard, slim arms tucked behind his head, looking for once like any normal, hot-blooded, smug male after sex, only about five hundred times prettier.   
  
“Well, was it worth the wait?” he enquires breezily. Hahaha. As if he didn’t know what my answer would be to _that_. I punch him lightly on his worshipfully flat stomach and find myself grinning back at him. I mean to say something devilishly cool and clever, but instead find myself coming out with, “Saki, I _love you_.”   
  
His pinball smile gets even wider.  
“Do you love me enough to phone up for takeout? I think tonight’s been eventful enough to indulge for once.”   
  
I grumble at him as I clamber off the bed, aching slightly and wanting to drop into a little puddle of well-being.   
  
“Unless you’re intending to cook,” he calls after me, suppressing an unbecoming snigger.   
  
“Shut it, Sakito.”   
  
By the time I get back from the phone Sakito is in the shower, looking eerily like an advert for Herbal Essences amid the steam. I grump at the edge of the sink for a while, and then a shapely hand grabs me and drags me in with him, and for once I’m not comparing my puny self with the god-touched wonders of Saki’s form. Hot water gushes over me as he backs me up against the wall.   
  
“Time for one more before takeaway?” he murmurs over the shower. I gape for one second and then let him envelop me gleefully.   
  
Once again, thank you, mysterious unseen force of nature. Now please, can you send me some stamina?   
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Not even a day later, and we’re back at band practice. I have mixed feelings here. On one hand, I want to show everyone (namely Ruka and bloody Ni~ya), through my suffused glow of physical satisfaction, that I am finally engaged in a full-on, passionate relationship. On the other, Saki has found time to regale the others with the _hilarious_ tale of my dinner party attempt, to their utmost enjoyment. Ni~ya is almost having a fit, clutching his stomach and moaning with laughter as he sits with Ruka’s arm curled possessively around his waist. I pout. I sulk. Saki slides his fingers through my hair and looks into my eyes. I get over it.   
  
Hitsugi-kun is looking mildly disgusted with the couply-couple atmosphere, although he was the only one with the grace not to laugh at my culinary misfortunes. He folds his arms and glowers with fake menace as I defend my cooking skills.   
  
“Hitsu,” butts in Ni~ya rudely, “don’t look like that. D’you want us to find you a date?”   
  
“No, thank you,” answers Hitsugi-kun primly. “My cat is worth three of you guys.”   
  
“I can set you up with Ayumi Hamasaki,” lies Ni~ya confidentially. “That’d loosen you up.”   
  
Hitsugi-kun reaches out and kicks him smartly in the shins, then stands up threateningly.  
“Screw you guys. I’m going home.”   
  
He makes it approximately two steps before, in a surprisingly macho moment of like-mindedness, all four of us have jumped out of our seats and leapt at him, colliding mid-air and tumbling into one giant, wriggling, giggling monster. I find myself lying on top of Ni~ya, with Ruka’s elbow in my ear and Saki’s weight pushing me down towards the floor. After a few seconds of writhing confusion, Hitsugi-kun’s voice emerges weakly from his prostrate position beneath us.   
  
“You utter, utter retards.”   
  
I wiggle my way to the top of the pile. Hitsugi-kun’s opinion seems to be shared by the guitar techs, who have appeared in the doorway at the almighty crash and are looking on in consternation for any sign of instrument breakage. A sense of enormous well-being invades me. Finally. Finally we’re all back to the way we should be.  
“Guys.” The Nightmare-pile stills itself. “I love you guys.”   
  
In unconscious, perfectly-timed unison, four voices come groaning out of the heap.  
“Shut the hell up, Yomi.”   
  
I close my eyes.   
  
Ahhhhh. Bliss. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you got through all that...kudos to you! And if you enjoy the bizarre combination of sex comedy and angst, do check out my much more recent Nightmare epic, "Man With a Movie Camera", for better sex and (hopefully) better writing.


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